Life is like an onion,
Reality like a dream,
Layers and layers until nothing,
Reflection in a pale moon's gleam.
Amarant hated parties; the more he thought about it the more he hated them.
Everyone was so happy and loud that he felt a headache slowly growing behind
his eyes. He had never been a very sociable person, had never entertained
the thought of so many people in such closed quarters, and now he couldn't
comprehend what idiot had actually thought this up.
Why had he come to the party? Even he couldn't remember, until the reason
walked up and began speaking to him.
"You look like you're sulking." The monkey-boy declared, dressed in his fine
clothing. He would have looked striking if not for the tail poking defiantly
out of the back of his pants. "Hasn't anyone asked you to dance?"
Ah yes, Zidane was the one who had convinced him to come, the little dimwit
had annoyed the blue-skinned man until he given up. Just to spite the little
monkey he hadn't worn a suit, although it seemed a petty victory
now.
The 'little monkey' stood on his tiptoes now, looking into the tall man's
eyes quizzically before a coy smile spread across his face, "Maybe if you
had worn a suit one of these pretty ladies would-oww!"
Zidane's suggestive remark was cut short as Garnet came up from behind him
and cuffed his ear, managing to look both amused and exasperated all in one
moment. "Ignore him." She told the tall redhead, "He's just annoyed that
I made him wear a suit."
"Oh?" Zidane just didn't know when to be quiet, "But I look so-oww! Now what
was that for!?"
"Hush." Garnet's eyes twinkled, softening the otherwise stern look on her
face; she turned back to Amarant as she dragged her surly dance partner away,
"Please try to have some fun Sir Amarant."
Amarant just sighed, trying to hide deeper in the shadows of the ballroom,
wondering how much longer he would have to stay. When he could no longer
stand the ache in his temples, he crossed his arms over his chest and closed
his eyes, allowing all sounds to filter out of his head, becoming background
noise, a trick he had learned early on in life. He appeared as a stoic gargoyle
in the midst of beautiful dancing dolls, listening to the sound of his own
heartbeat while they twirled to the rhythm of a song.
He stayed like that for several moments, eyes closed and arms crossed, until
a quiet voice whispered into his ear, "You look to be enjoying
yourself."
Amarant would have jumped, had he been the jumpy type, instead he opened
one of his eyes and coolly glared at the person who had disturbed his almost
meditative state.
Freya, one time warrior of Burmecia, stared back at him, intelligent gray
eyes narrowing as she watched his face go slack with
astonishment.
"Yes," she said tartly, tapping her foot angrily, "I am wearing a dress,
do you have a problem with that?"
He shrugged, getting over the sudden shock and examining the female warrior
more closely. He had no idea why she was so irritated; she didn't look unsightly
in the least, quite the opposite actually. Though modest, the dress fit her
nicely, the sapphire shade bringing out the color of her eyes and making
them appear large and innocent, although they were burning with angry fire
at the moment.
She held two glasses of champagne in her hands, one half-empty and the other
seemingly untouched. He wondered briefly if they were both hers then realized
it was none of his business if she wanted to drink herself into a stupor.
Freya, however, had noticed the look on his face and, almost as if she had
read his mind, raised the full glass up to him, "I thought you could use
some alcohol." She said as way of explanation.
Slightly surprised but in no mood to show it, he took the simply shaped glass;
it was dwarfed in his hand as it had been in hers. "I'll need about thirty
more of these." He said sourly, looking pointedly at the crowd.
She laughed knowingly, "If only to quell the noise, huh?"
She took a place next to him on the wall, leaning against it and taking a
delicate sip from her glass. They sat in an uncomfortable silence, Freya
wondering what she thought she was doing while Amarant, holding a now empty
cup, was toying with the idea of getting another.
"So how did you get out of dressing up?" Freya asked, becoming somewhat desperate
for conversation.
The redhead shrugged and walked away into the crowd, making Freya smile slightly
to hide her disappointment.
Freya looked at her glass of now warm champagne, finishing it off in one
gulp. She made a face as the tepid alcohol rushed down her throat, leaving
a bitter aftertaste.
"The Taste of Life." She thought humorlessly, "Bitter as usual."
There was a soft tap on her shoulder and she turned her head to see Zidane
smiling at her.
"You look nice." He offered, gesturing at the dress.
The rat-woman begged to differ but instead settled for saying, "Garnet threatened
to rip off my tail if I didn't wear it."
The young man nodded sagely, recalling his own argument with the queen and
its quick close when she had brought out a pair of scissors. "I know how
you feel."
Freya's smile was lukewarm but it did nothing to diminish the air of sadness
that hung about her like a funeral veil. The former bandit was worried; Freya's
depression was like a deep hole that she was continually digging, covering
up her downward spiral with fake smiles and half-hearted
laughs.
'Where did Amarant go?' he thought angrily, 'He could have kept her
company.'
He looked around the crowded room for the giant redhead whom he was sure
would stick out like a sore thumb. After several moments of fruitless searching
he asked Freya, as casually as he could feign, "Where did Amarant
go?"
Freya pointed one claw-like finger in the direction he had left, unsure as
to why Zidane was acting so strangely.
Zidane frowned, something he did rarely, and then sighed while his tail twitched
with agitation behind him, "He could have at least asked you to
dance."
She smiled, this one more real than the others, "Thanks," she said quietly,
"But I don't think Amarant is the waltzing type."
The image of a waltzing Amarant danced through Zidane's head and his usual
goofy grin reappeared. "You never know, he doesn't really talk about himself,
for all we know he could be a professional dancer."
"There you are!" a tiny voice called, and there was a sudden blur of movement
around Zidane, ending with him lying flat on his back and the young Eiko
Carol standing on his chest. "You promised you'd dance with me!" she said
accusingly, tapping her foot angrily and leaning over so that their noses
were almost touching in an attempt to frighten him into
submission.
"Okay, okay, but only if you get off of me first." He gasped, trying hard
not to smile.
The little girl complied, sliding off his chest and, to make sure he didn't
get away, grabbing his hand and immediately pulling him toward the dance
floor.
"Sorry Freya, I'll talk to you later, 'kay?" he called to her from over his
shoulder.
She nodded, watching as he disappeared with the little summoner into the
dancing masses.
The smile on her face faded, she watched the couples moving gracefully across
the floor, cheerful dancers continually getting closer to their partners
as the song progressed. It was a heartwarming scene but it only served to
send the former warrior of Burmecia deeper into her shell. Her heart had
been trampled, broken, and thrown away so often that it could no longer become
warm with happiness.
'Your time for happiness has passed.' The little voice in the back of her
mind informed her, 'It died, along with Fratley's memories.'
Something wet trailed down her cheek, and frowning, she reached up to brush
it away, only to realize that more droplets were following its downward descent.
'Am I crying?' she wondered, anxiously scanning the room to see if anyone
had noticed. No one had, everyone was too caught up in the moment of dancing
to see Freya running toward the nearest exit, berating herself the entire
way. 'How petty, to cry over nothing.'
She threw open the wooden door, feeling a blast of wind and realizing her
mistake.
It hadn't been an exit, well, not really. The oak door had led out to a large
balcony which overlooked a garden. The garden seemed to have been neglected
for quite some time, but it appeared to be an organized mess, full of beauty
that it couldn't have produced in tight little sections. Freya allowed the
tears to fall down her cheeks, forgotten, in the face of such
magnificence.
Flowers sprouted everywhere, species such as monkshood with its poisonous
purple-helmeted flowers mingled with the harmless bell-like pinks of heather.
Flower colors ranging from dainty white to bloody red spread across the ground
in closely packed clusters so that not even a patch of dirt was showing.
Ancient trees towered over the thousands of blossoms, like giant, unmoving
guardians. Silvery, elegant white willows shared space with rowans and
fruit-filled pomegranates, all of them stretching their branches into a
star-filled night sky.
Aromas wafted through the air, both pungent and sugary sweet. Her sensitive
nose flinched under the assault and she sneezed once, twice, a third time
before she became accustomed to it.
There was a soft chuckle behind her and she felt the sudden electric shock
of surprise, she had thought herself the only individual on the balcony.
Turning quickly, she saw a tall figure hiding in the shadows, and while that
alone failed to alarm her, the telltale glint of curved metal did. She
instinctively reached for the spear she didn't have, remembering that she
had left it in the hall with all the other weapons. Hissing several foul
oaths, she immediately began to consider her chances. No weapon, no armor,
very few useful magic spells, fear squeezed her heart as she realized the
odds definitely weren't in her favor.
The stranger had frozen in the darker shadows when she had begun cursing,
and then stepping cautiously out into the light, muttered,
"Colorful."
Freya's calculations stopped, she had recognized the voice before she had
seen the face.
"Amarant." She growled, hands on hips. "You brought your Claws?"
She could have sworn he was smiling as he raised the glittering claws up
to the dim moonlight, "Never leave home without them."
There were several names she would have liked to have called him right then,
none of them appropriate. She settled for giving him a cold glare, which
he returned, although she could barely see his eyes, half hidden as they
were beneath his crimson hair. She turned away first, which surprised her
more than him. 'But then again,' she mused quietly to herself, 'I've been
turning away from my problems a great deal lately.'
Gazing out at the wild garden, Freya tried to ignore the fact that Amarant
was looking straight at her, patiently waiting for her to acknowledge him
with a look. She was nervous, was he going to make fun of her? Did he want
to start a fight? Her mouth curved upwards in a cynical smile as she recalled
their first meeting. He had stared at her, in much the same way he was now,
until, unnerved and significantly peeved; she had asked what he was looking
at. If not for Zidane's quick intervention, they probably would have
battled.
"What?" she asked finally, voice not as venomous as it had been in their
first meeting but still burning with an inner fire.
"You want to talk." It wasn't a question; it was a statement, as if he knew
very well that she needed someone to speak to.
Her eyes widened in panic, had she become transparent in the last few minutes?
Whirling to face Amarant, her terror flaring into irrational anger, she growled,
"What makes you think I want to talk?"
He shrugged, and although the gesture seemed indifferent his voice was hesitant
as he said, "I saw you crying."
Freya felt exposed, she hadn't even stopped to consider that he had seen
her, she replied acidly, "I most certainly was not crying."
Amarant looked down at her, having the advantage in height, and she saw a
momentary flash of emotion in his eyes but it fled too quickly for it to
be identified. "My mistake." He murmured, turning away and walking back toward
the entrance of the ballroom.
She had to make a choice now. Freya could either talk to him, tell him of
the sadness that had been weighing down her shoulders, or she could let him
walk away and spend the rest of her life stewing in a painful past and a
dark future. But could she trust him? Would he just laugh in her face and
walk away anyway? She wasn't sure, and she didn't know if she wanted to risk
it. But her heart wanted someone to reach out to so badly; the real question
was, if she did allow it, for her forlorn heart to reach out to him, would
he crush it? Or would he accept it?
Amarant had reached for the door, silently pushing it open, "You should stop
second guessing yourself." He said quietly, "If everyone tortured themselves
endlessly with 'what ifs' then nothing would get done."
His declaration surprised her, and for the second time that night she wondered
if he could scan her mind. So, closing her eyes tightly, and mustering all
the courage she could, she said, "I-I'd like to talk to you,
Amarant."
He stepped away from the door, allowing it to shut with a soft sound but
stood where he was, "I'm not forcing you."
"I know," the rat-woman replied, cupping her face with her hands, she felt
so tired. "I want to talk."
He took a few steps away from the door to once again lean against the wall,
examining his metal claws for a moment before saying, "So what do you want
to talk about?"
Freya blinked, a moment ago he had seemed like he could read her mind, then
she realized he wanted to hear it from her lips rather than guess at what
was going on.
"I-I guess it all started when I discovered Fratley, the only person I had
ever loved, had forgotten me, had forgotten us." She paused, this seemed
like a good way to lose what little respect she had gained from Amarant,
but he had asked and she had already decided to tell. She continued. "It
seems like, when I realized that he couldn't remember me, I could no longer
remember myself."
She walked to the edge of the balcony, laying her arms down on the steel
railing and watching the flowers sway in the breeze to keep her mind off
how embarrassed she would be later. "After my home, Burmecia, was destroyed
I tried to pull myself back together to fight for the people who had survived
and fled to Cleyra, it was their last stronghold and a way for me to redeem
myself for my past mistakes.
"Cleyra fell, if you remember correctly, my people were left with nowhere
left to turn and in that moment I swore that I would get revenge for them,
that I would annihilate the person who had destroyed their lives. Kuja would
pay for every drop of blood he had shed, every family he had torn apart,
everyone he had hurt." She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath, turning
to look at Amarant to gauge his reaction to her story so far. He was looking
at her seriously, no longer studying his steel Claws as he had been before,
his attention wholly focused on her.
"You don't have to listen to this Amarant." She said quietly, thin rat-like
tail swishing about with nervous awkwardness.
"I said I would listen if you wanted to talk," he replied, still looking
at her, "I'll listen until you think you're done."
"I can hear myself talk and I know what you must think of me." She said more
softly than before, making him lean forward in order to hear her correctly,
"And I agree, I do sound selfish."
He smiled at her, she seemed so unsure of herself that it was almost pathetic,
"You can be egotistical once in a while." He assured her, "It's better than
being a saint like you usually are."
Freya tried to glare at him but she felt too tired, as she had gone through
the events of her life she had felt her energy draining out of her, and now
she needed to sit down. As she searched for a suitable perch she asked him,
"Have you ever heard the phrase 'life is like an onion'?"
Amarant would have been lying had he said that was something he had expected
her to ask, and even as he was giving her a perplexed look he said, "Yes,
I have."
"What does it mean to you?" she asked as she hauled herself up onto the railing
upon finding no other seat.
Now he was very confused, "That some people can be rotten inside like onions
but no one can see it?"
She was silent for a moment, choosing not to look at him and opting for a
more comfortable view of the garden. "When I was very young, my mother told
me that life was like an onion because at first you start out as nothing,
you have done nothing special, nothing that anyone will remember you for.
But as you go through life you begin to accomplish things, things that add
layers to your life, so that you become complex, so that people could never
think that you had been nothing, like an onion.
"But now it's hard to remember my accomplishments, the layers that once made
up my life, it's like someone peeled away the deeds I worked so hard for
and found that I was nothing, that, in truth, I had always been
nothing."
Her finger-like claws clicked against the metal railing, the only sound that
filled the sudden and unpleasant silence.
"So you think you're nothing?"
Freya turned at the sound of his voice, surprised. He was looking directly
at her, closer than she remembered him being when she had begun
speaking.
"Do you know how many people admire you? How many people take one look at
you and realize they can never measure up?" Amarant's voice was becoming
louder as he went on, "In times of hardship you pulled through, when Fratley's
memory failed, when your people were nearly destroyed, in the face of certain
death you didn't waver, not once!"
She flinched, she hadn't known Amarant could be this angry, his eyes were
burning beneath his unruly mop of red hair, fists clenching with untold rage,
she was almost afraid he would knock her from the balcony.
"The only person who has dared lift away the layers of your life is you."
His voice was quieter now, almost as if he spoke to himself, "We were all
nothing once Freya, but the course of our lives changed all that, if you
look too deep you'll lose yourself in your sorrow for things you couldn't
have helped, things that were out of your control."
She absorbed what he had said, and even though she wanted to disagree with
him she knew he was right.
"Thanks, Amarant."
There was a ghost of a smile on his face which promptly faded into a frown.
His emotional shell had returned as quickly as it had gone and he no longer
felt like talking, he walked toward the door to the dancing
hall.
Freya blinked, stunned, and wondering if she had just dreamed up the whole
conversation, he appeared to be the same cold Amarant he had always been.
His next few words however, made her smile.
"I'm going to get a drink; your self-pity is enough to make anyone become
a drunkard."
As he opened the door the sound of music soared through the night air, here
he paused, undecidedly at the doorway before he turned back to her and said,
"Now I have a question for you." She raised an eyebrow, looking at him
quizzically, and blinked in surprise when the question finally came.
"Want to dance?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
'My work here is done.' Zidane thought as he watched the couple dancing.
Freya didn't seem gloomy anymore, far from it actually, even when scolding
Amarant for stepping on her toes she glowed with a happy light. Amarant also
seemed more animated than usual, although his reaction was less apparent
than hers. Zidane even thought he saw the taller man smile a few times which
was quite odd in itself.
"I wonder what they talked about." He mused aloud.
He may have been surprised to find out it was onions.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Freya took a few more steps before turning back to give the dance hall a
longing look. It was late, or early depending on how you looked at it. The
sun had yet to peek over the mountains ranges but a soft pink glow had already
begun to fill the sky, transforming everything it touched. The clouds turned
to cotton candy, great swirls of it encompassing the sky while the mountains
seemed to come alive under the touch, their beauty becoming more than just
simple mounds of earth. Even Freya seemed different, her face seemed softer,
not as hunted looking, her eyes open and filled with hope that could no longer
be denied.
"Its amazing how one person can change your outlook on life." She said
quietly to herself, smiling at the memory of Amarant's disgusted face when
he realized he couldn't dance.
There was a quiet sound behind her and she turned to see none other than
Amarant watching her.
"You look pleased." He snorted, walking past her with his usual shuffling
gait. "Something good happen?"
Freya nodded, trying to look solemn and failing miserably. "I guess you could
say that." She murmured.
He glanced at her quickly, a look of puzzlement marring his usually emotionless
face. She continued to smile, and then glanced up at the sky just as the
sun rose above the horizon. The two of them stood together, letting the sun
bathe their faces with a brilliant light, each of them thinking their own
thoughts.
"Where are you going next?" Freya asked quietly, turning to him.
He shrugged, "Treno, maybe, I don't know."
"Mind if I tag along?"
He smiled, unfazed by her question, as if he had been expecting it all along,
"If you can keep up."
"Oh, I think I'll be up to it." She replied before she leapt into action,
running across the field of endless grass.
"Like a kid." Amarant muttered to himself, taking off at a much slower
pace.
"Honestly Amarant, you're like an adamantoise, pick up the pace!" Freya called
over her shoulder.
"Name calling, typical, what next?" he growled, although he wasn't really
angry.
The two of them continued on that way, Freya calling out teasing remarks
while Amarant mumbled unpleasant things to himself, neither taking the other
very seriously and just enjoying the company.
The sun rose in the sky, casting its light onto the earth, reminding the
partners that no matter how imperfect life could seem, there would always
be another tomorrow, a bright future waiting just beyond the horizon. Life
can be described as many things, an onion, a pain, a blessing, but in the
end you need someone to share it with, someone to lean on when you're feeling
like nothing, someone to remind you of what you really are when life no longer
seems worth it.
Freya and Amarant walked side by side now, Freya having slowed her pace after
getting weary of taunting the blue-skinned man. She smiled up at him, a warm
feeling rising up within her heart, and, though she didn't quite know it
yet, Freya had found her someone.
And 'nothing' was suddenly very far away.
Loneliness that eats the mind,
And barricades the heart.
Fear that stares with anxious eyes,
At the figures in the dark.
But when that darkness fades to naught
You'll come to realize,
That you were always something
In someone else's eyes