Post by Hiko on Jun 1, 2011 3:17:18 GMT -5
Besaid had been a sea of tanned skin and harsh accents. Maria had taken time off the tour boat long enough to find some decent information on summoners, the fayth, and aeons, but there had other sorts of discoveries that had called at her attention before she'd managed to delve too deeply into history lessons.
Though it had taken some time for her to grasp the handling of spheres, the young mage was quickly learning to love them – for their size, they were more capable than the average book at holding long-worded tomes. More importantly, they were easy to write in (or was the term “record”?). Maria had decided to purchase a blank sphere before running back to catch the small ship. If anything else, the girl thought, grinning wildly, it would be easier to speak than jot – at least insofar as certain spell tomes were concerned.
–
The passing from Besaid to the Gulch was less than thrilling, as boat rides went. Sea, sea, and more sea coursed by, and Maria found herself once more leaning over the railing of the vessel. This time, however, she would not plan to soak her clothing.
The air was as salty as ever, and as night began to fall, the humidity of the day began to wane. As the crew began ushering its accompanying tourists to their cabins for the evening, Maria lingered on the deck. Since Besaid, she hadn't caught sight of her nameless savior from earlier in the day. It was a pity, she thought with an unhappy sigh – she hadn't had much in the way of companionship since leaving Altea. Synen had disappeared to who-knew-where, and now without even her nameless stranger, she felt a bit more like herded cattle than a proper customer. Ah well, she thought to herself as she finally left for her own cabin, at least they haven't started tagging us for farmlands yet.
–
The Gulch appeared before breakfast.
Too-bright light spilled down into her modest room, and Maria grunted in disdain. It wasn't until she had dragged herself from bed and squinted out the tiny window that she felt any sort of eagerness for the new day. Sleeping in ships had never been a skillset she'd learned well, and she ached from neck to ankles from the constant rocking. Stretching out before donning fresh clothes, Maria felt every joint in her body crack and pop. She blinked around the room in a fresh-from-slumbered haze, she couldn't recall where she'd placed that journal sphere. Her bag's strappings were slung over the short post of the bed, with the snap-locked cover folded open.
The sphere wasn't there.
Frowning, she wondered if it hadn't tumbled out during the night – the bag was hardly the deepest carry-on in the world, and with all the noise of the crew and the sounds of waves crashing against the sides of the ship, Maria doubted she'd've heard the little glowball fall. Bending over, she ducked her head under the bed. The sphere was caught between the wall of the cabin and the post of the bedframe.
“Well, you're just a jerk,” she scorned the sphere while clamoring under the bed like a child to reach for it.
She couldn't very well leave the exact item needed to record the Gulch's clairvoyants in action.
–
Maria hated standing in lines. Her fingers drummed along the curve of her most prized purchase as she waited her turn with the gulgans. What seemed like hours passed by – surely, she'd get her chance before the crew called to board.
An elderly woman with glazed eyes and a painted face was the one to finally call her forward.
“You there, girl, speak your questions and I will answer as I am able.”
For a moment, Maria hesitated – shouldn't a seer know the questions before they were asked?
“Only when the girl asking knows what she desires to learn.”
That startled the young woman. She took a step back, and frowned, “How did you-”
“That is unimportant. You have three questions.”
What the hell. “What caused the Merge?”
“Magic.”
“That's hardly an answer.”
“It is the only answer you need, for now.”
“Hmph. All right. What kind of magic?”
“The only kind that could: Desperation. You have one question left.”
Well, this was getting her nowhere fast. Maria decided that rather than waste her last question for the queen – and get nothing for it, considering the past two answers – she would ask for her own sake. “What do you see in my future?”
“Servitude. You will live and die as a servant for those better than yourself.”
“That's obvious. I'm my queen's woma-”
“Not for Hilda. Soon, never for Hilda again.”
The hairs on the back of Maria's neck stood tall. “What do you mean?”
“You have asked three, and I have answered them – some more than I should.”
“And all of them not at all enough!” the girl nearly shouted back.
“Away. Away before your trouble finds you now rather than soon. Go back to your little boat, back to your little city, and do not forget: You owe service.”
–
That night, Maria mulled over the old woman's words as they replayed through her tiny, glowing, tell-all.
She owed service? If not to her queen, then to whom?
A dark thought occurred to her as the recording dimmed: Was it to whom, or to what?
Though it had taken some time for her to grasp the handling of spheres, the young mage was quickly learning to love them – for their size, they were more capable than the average book at holding long-worded tomes. More importantly, they were easy to write in (or was the term “record”?). Maria had decided to purchase a blank sphere before running back to catch the small ship. If anything else, the girl thought, grinning wildly, it would be easier to speak than jot – at least insofar as certain spell tomes were concerned.
–
The passing from Besaid to the Gulch was less than thrilling, as boat rides went. Sea, sea, and more sea coursed by, and Maria found herself once more leaning over the railing of the vessel. This time, however, she would not plan to soak her clothing.
The air was as salty as ever, and as night began to fall, the humidity of the day began to wane. As the crew began ushering its accompanying tourists to their cabins for the evening, Maria lingered on the deck. Since Besaid, she hadn't caught sight of her nameless savior from earlier in the day. It was a pity, she thought with an unhappy sigh – she hadn't had much in the way of companionship since leaving Altea. Synen had disappeared to who-knew-where, and now without even her nameless stranger, she felt a bit more like herded cattle than a proper customer. Ah well, she thought to herself as she finally left for her own cabin, at least they haven't started tagging us for farmlands yet.
–
The Gulch appeared before breakfast.
Too-bright light spilled down into her modest room, and Maria grunted in disdain. It wasn't until she had dragged herself from bed and squinted out the tiny window that she felt any sort of eagerness for the new day. Sleeping in ships had never been a skillset she'd learned well, and she ached from neck to ankles from the constant rocking. Stretching out before donning fresh clothes, Maria felt every joint in her body crack and pop. She blinked around the room in a fresh-from-slumbered haze, she couldn't recall where she'd placed that journal sphere. Her bag's strappings were slung over the short post of the bed, with the snap-locked cover folded open.
The sphere wasn't there.
Frowning, she wondered if it hadn't tumbled out during the night – the bag was hardly the deepest carry-on in the world, and with all the noise of the crew and the sounds of waves crashing against the sides of the ship, Maria doubted she'd've heard the little glowball fall. Bending over, she ducked her head under the bed. The sphere was caught between the wall of the cabin and the post of the bedframe.
“Well, you're just a jerk,” she scorned the sphere while clamoring under the bed like a child to reach for it.
She couldn't very well leave the exact item needed to record the Gulch's clairvoyants in action.
–
Maria hated standing in lines. Her fingers drummed along the curve of her most prized purchase as she waited her turn with the gulgans. What seemed like hours passed by – surely, she'd get her chance before the crew called to board.
An elderly woman with glazed eyes and a painted face was the one to finally call her forward.
“You there, girl, speak your questions and I will answer as I am able.”
For a moment, Maria hesitated – shouldn't a seer know the questions before they were asked?
“Only when the girl asking knows what she desires to learn.”
That startled the young woman. She took a step back, and frowned, “How did you-”
“That is unimportant. You have three questions.”
What the hell. “What caused the Merge?”
“Magic.”
“That's hardly an answer.”
“It is the only answer you need, for now.”
“Hmph. All right. What kind of magic?”
“The only kind that could: Desperation. You have one question left.”
Well, this was getting her nowhere fast. Maria decided that rather than waste her last question for the queen – and get nothing for it, considering the past two answers – she would ask for her own sake. “What do you see in my future?”
“Servitude. You will live and die as a servant for those better than yourself.”
“That's obvious. I'm my queen's woma-”
“Not for Hilda. Soon, never for Hilda again.”
The hairs on the back of Maria's neck stood tall. “What do you mean?”
“You have asked three, and I have answered them – some more than I should.”
“And all of them not at all enough!” the girl nearly shouted back.
“Away. Away before your trouble finds you now rather than soon. Go back to your little boat, back to your little city, and do not forget: You owe service.”
–
That night, Maria mulled over the old woman's words as they replayed through her tiny, glowing, tell-all.
She owed service? If not to her queen, then to whom?
A dark thought occurred to her as the recording dimmed: Was it to whom, or to what?