FINAL FANTASY ADVENT CHILDREN RAWKS!!!
MWUHAHAH
Well,
I got to watch Final Fantasy Advent Children today. It was very very cool and I am soo glad to finally see it! It made me happy. It was really really just yay!!!! I need to convert it to DVD format so I can watch on the projection screen. Ohh god the coolness. Saw Corpse Bride today too. Aparently when we die...from death we turn into blue butterflies..good to know. Beyond that it was cool. Always like Tim Burton flicks. even if they are weird as hell. Hung out with you all...you know who you all are. was cool!! Haven't seen people in forever. Glad to get the break. Beyond that. I haven't done too much. Getting stuff done. and wrote some more....alot more actually. The whole time i was waiting for FF7AC and a little after and was typing up some more stuff. I'm up to 10 pages....scary shit. I've never written 10 pages of anything. This thing is growing. anyways. I'ts here if you're interested. If not no worries. Its avoidable! :-P
**
Three loud shots of thunder rap at my door demanding my attention. I force my eyes open to see what is so important it deserved my return from the abyss. I know it’s the hag. The old witch doesn’t see the need in letting me sleep soundly before beginning my torture. Of course not, what good is torture if the prisoner is sound asleep. You can’t scream as well asleep as you do when you’re alert. It seems judgment day is upon. I had my last sleep and forgot to savor the calming feeling of the void it provides. Why was she so cruel? Why does she stand there?
“Damn it woman, get it over with! What do you want from me?”
She just stares. Is she deaf? She could have the decency to answer my question. I can’t help but be exasperated. She is too slow. Whatever she feels like doing…it will be too slow. I will be tempted to help her out just to get her to finish before night falls. Finally, she moves. She hobbles her weak frame closer to me. Her crooked smile makes my insides turn. Her frail hands push my chest down again as she cranes her head over my chest. I’m tempted to yell at her, “My heart beats fine! Just kill me and get if over with!” I hold my tongue however. There is always the possibility her putrid hair will enter my mouth if I open it. I’ll just wait till she is satisfied. She raises her head and smiles again. She undresses my bandages and peers over my injury. I look at it myself. It’s the first time since I’ve been in her care that I looked at my wound without its bandage. She truly is a miracle worker.
“What did you do? It almost looks like there was never an injury.”
She smiles her crooked smile and whispers, “I prayed dear, The gods did the rest.”
Ah ha! Finally it made sense. She was a Devout. A disciple of some sort. This made some sense. Maybe, I was in a makeshift hospital, one of the “Havens.” The Order was commonly known for taking ruins and converting them into more practical uses. They also never shied away from free help, which explains why the elder hag could be a devout. Still, something seemed wrong. There was no inclination of The Order’s touch here. Nothing exclaimed how “The Order” saved my life, or how this was “The Order’s” holy hospital. The only thing even remotely religious was the writings from previous tenant’s of how “God would help his lost lamb.” If she was truly a Devout then I should have expected a shepherd by now. Had they assumed that I hadn’t the strength to listen to a shepherd yet? No, it didn’t fit. The Order would have had one here anyway. It’s easier for them to gain one’s faith while the sheep is weak and unable to say no.
“What do you want from me? I’m not gonna be a damn disciple so forget it!”
She leaves my wound open. I guess she sees no point in dressing a wound that had healed. She knew I was well now. At least, as well as I can be physically. She looks at me as if the question was foreign. Almost as if she didn’t expect anything from me except to get better. She gave an impression as if she was truly “innocent” and only wanted to help. Her black eyes betrayed her however. Desire burned in the darkness of her eyes. No matter how well she played innocent I knew there was more to her than charity.
“Dear, you don’t understand. Poor child, you were very hurt. Had I not nursed you to health you may be in the lord’s realm now. I merely tried to save you. You have a second chance.”
“Lie all you want but I’m not brain dead. My wound may have damn-near killed me but it didn’t make me stupid. I know there is more to you than just being a good soul. You act like I have choices. By the way, you can quit the Devout act while you are at it. I know that this isn’t one of The Order’s Haven’s. And if this isn’t a Haven then you aren’t likely one of their disciples.
“I see you’re smart. Smarter then most sheep, dear. Keep your senses you need them.”
“You haven’t answered my question. What do you want from me.”
She sighs softly. Her stench carries through the wind and flares my nostrils. I keep my intense gaze on her nonetheless. I won’t be distracted. I caught her off guard and I intend to use every last bit of leverage I can. She inhales deeply then stares back at me. She isn’t armed with anything more than her walking cane. I know her plans don’t imply torture…at least not immediate torture.
Retribution? She wanted me to be incensed. Think of pay back and go along with her. I won’t be stupid and fall for her simple words. But then, what does she want? If she isn’t depraved or malicious…then what else could she be. I know she’s not charitable, there’s no such thing. So what does she really want? The question would drive me crazy.
“I expect nothing from you, child. I haven’t the strength to force anything on you either, but you are correct to anticipate that I need you for something.”
“No shit, now out with it. My patience is limited and I have better places to be than this. Hell, any place is better than this shack.”
Another sigh escapes her breath. “My name is Ryna.”
“Pleasantries now? You are crazy.”
She must be delusional. She’s just some smelly old hag that wanted a friend so she brought one back from the dead. That doesn’t exactly make sense…but nothing in this situation does. She must be out of her mind if she thinks I care about her name. As far as I see it, if she isn’t going to “expect” anything from me then there was no point reviving me.
“ My name is Ryna, Ryna Barbarrosa”
“I don’t care! You’ve wasted your time. You would have been better off leaving me for dead. I don’t care what the hell your name is and what you want from me. You made your mistake not binding me. So don’t expect me to stick around here now that I can move.”
“Dear, I thought you were smart. That name alone should mean something to you. That name should make your blood boil. That name should make you rise and scream for retribution.”
Ryna? What should I care about her name being Ryna Barbarrosa. That’s the first time I’ve heard the name. Wait a second. Barbarrosa… I had heard the name before. But where? Somewhere in my head I had heard the name.
“Maybe you do recall the name. What I want is for you to get revenge on he who truly struck you down. I want you to do what I can‘t”
Barbarrosa is an important name. I can guess that much. As to why, I can’t recall. The crazy old hag revived me and expects me to get vengeance because of her name? Call it retribution if you want, you hag, but in the end I know its just cold blooded murder for cold blooded murder. Retribution was a fancy way of getting a simple idea across. Why would she care if I went after my assailant? What makes her think that I wouldn‘t kill her after I was healed? I guess I don’t look the part of a murderer, but vengeance? Everyone can be known to look for justice. Trying to make things fair is easy to people. It can make the timid child into a soldier and weak old men into leaders. Leaders that could form a following like The Order.
The Order was first established, to my knowledge, to help prevent harm from happening to the poor survivors, the sheep as we were affectionately called. Basing their beliefs from old testaments found in the ruins of former libraries they gathered a group of people and created a form of police squad. They helped drive out bandits and thugs who terrorized the improvised villages. They claimed it was retribution for the harm done to their sheep. They would bring forth a new era of peace. At least they promised to. As the bandits and renegades were killed or kept at bay, they also promised to keep a level of justice and no longer bear arms. The police were dismantled and were converted to The Order. Members of The Order, the Devout, were sent to the early towns to help govern them. Shepherds were made to follow and bring in recruits by promising shelter and food and everlasting love from their gods and saviors while future attempts of raiders were controlled by unknown enforcers called the Clerics.
It all seemed like a good idea. Man’s belief is fickle however, and with more power implies more temptation. It wasn’t long before The Order abused their control over the masses and nearly enslaved the sheep. This was all done in the name of their gods. The two leaders of The Order began to bicker with one another on the practices of The Order until one night one of them, Reverend Gait, was found mysteriously dead in his chambers. After that the other lead The Order with an iron fist. It only took time before The Order became corrupt. Some people wouldn’t believe it. They held firm that The Order was pure, that The Order had “saved” them. This may have been true. The Order stopped pillagers and generally weak people who were fighting to keep alive. In return they created a tyrannical empire. From the throne the lone Reverend sat controlling the sheep through his Clerics and Devout. He got whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. If someone stood up against The Order he was mysteriously found dead on the streets or in his home. The Order no longer sought out vengeance openly, it was part of their beliefs held in their sermons, but that didn’t stop the Reverend from handing retribution out with subtlety.
“He wants retribution.”
It all came to me now. Barbarrosa, as in Reverend Barbarrosa. The Leader of The Order. Rumors were spread that his wife was abandoned when she believed he had sentenced Gait to death. It didn’t make too much sense at first. Why would she care so much? When information leaked about who Mother Barbarrosa was before becoming the Mother of the Order it did make sense. Ryna Barbarrosa was originally Ryna Gait, Sister of Reverend Francis Gait. No matter her love for her husband, a marriage could easily be disavowed when the husband kills off his wife’s brother. Being left for dead in the wastelands outside of the towns, Ryna must have found an old abandoned Haven and set up home there. She must have figured I was marked for dead by The Order and that I’d help get revenge for her brother. That’s feasible isn’t it? Maybe the old hag wasn’t crazy…just desperate. Too bad I don’t give a damn about Gait. Too bad I don’t give a damn about The Order. Even if I could help, what could I do? I don’t even know why I was marked. As far as I am concerned I’m off the list. I kill off the Cleric who shot me then I can start anew and live my life off the radar of The Order’s gaze.
“I don’t care about the Reverend. I feel for you. Honest, but it has nothing to do with me.”
“Are you truly so naïve? Don’t you see?”
“As I see it, Barbarrosa and the rest of his damn Order think I’m dead. As long as I’m not on his list anymore then I have no worries.”
“You poor child, don’t you see the consequences of you inaction? If he’s not stopped then he will keep killing the sheep. You can’t run forever either. Hide all you like but his disciples will spot you. They don’t have proof that you are dead. If you were marked for death then the Cleric should have taken something to prove your death. They will make sure you are dead. They are meticulously efficient. Since you aren’t on the dusty road where they left you, they will scour miles around and check every body, they will leave notices out to find your body with grand rewards until you are found. Until they can get proof that you are no longer a threat. Once they do that, you won’t be able to even trust the sheep around you.”
“Listen, you overestimate my necessity to be dead for The Order. I’m not some rebel or vigilante they want dead. I don’t even know why they want me dead. It has nothing to do with me.”
“But I had nothing to do with this…Why must I be punished for his deeds.”
“Don’t you see how that is worse? Surely you understand then that he must be stopped. If what you say is true, then you are under great injustice. You deserve retribution. It is time the tyrant was taken from his throne.”
“What makes you think I can do that? Even if I wanted to, I don’t have the means. It’s not so simple as charging into the Temple with guns blazing and taking Barbarrosa down. I wouldn’t take one step before I’d have every gun trained on me. Another step and I’d die from instantly having 100 bullets enter my body!”
“I don’t expect you to be so rash. There are other methods to defeat the Reverend however.”
“Hah, You want me to be a vigilante? You want me to join a group of rebels and overthrow The Order?”
“Is it so unfeasible?”
“You must be crazy? There is no way I‘m going to do something so stupid. I’m getting out of here. After I take out the Cleric who attacked me, I’m gonna find someplace quiet and live out my days carefree. I don’t need a revolution. As long as I’m off his radar he can do what he wants to the sheep.”
“So you truly have no soul? You don’t care what happens to the rest of the world. As long as you are left alone the world could burn. Dear, you are lost. Don‘t you even want to know why you were marked? Killing that Devout wouldn't answer the question.”
“When it comes to retribution, I only have one goal. Get the guy who tagged me.”
“What about those above him? They could have you marked again. You can’t escape.”
“I’ll deal with that when it happens. Until then, I don’t care.”
I will myself to sit up straight. It pains me a little but at least I can sit up. I push myself farther and stand. My legs are weak. How long had I laid there? I couldn’t recall. Time had little meaning to me. I stood there a second and looked at her. I looked at the Mother of the Order. One of the few women who supposedly were pure of heart. She looked up at me and her features seemed soft. Her skin seemed less cracked. Her eyes filled with revenge and sorrow. She was dealt a worse hand then I had been. It didn’t matter though. She had her own fight to tend to. I had mine. A short breeze entered through the window. The cold chill made me realize the vulnerability of my skin. I held myself for warmth. She looks at me and grabs an old tattered shirt from one of the corners. I can only presume it was from a previous tenant. I figure my old shirt was unsalvageable. I take it and openly welcome the warmth it provides.
“Like I said I don’t expect anything from you. If you wish to leave I can’t stop you. I ask you remember this place though. You are welcome here as long as you like.”
I tell her thanks. It’s odd how my personal hell changed to something so much friendlier when you know something. It’s the home of the Mother. I’m always welcome at the home of the Mother. I take a few steps and find it hard to move. I’m weak, but it seems like so much is happening that I can barely make a step. I look back at the elder. She reaches out to me but restrains herself. Finally she opens her mouth again.
“Before you go let me know this. What’s your name young man?”
“What does it matter?”
“It doesn’t really, dear. I just figure in case I’m not around and you do come back to this place your name will be welcome.”
Did she fear death? Maybe something else made her worry. Why does she think I will come back to this place. It doesn’t matter. Name’s aren’t worth much around here. A person can change a name and no one can prove otherwise. There’s no way to prove a name unless you had been registered. Few sheep were ever registered though. I had no reason to lie to her though. I guess she knew that.
“Aveksander Acellion…most people who knew me called me Acel.”
She looked at me deeply. Her concerning gaze slowly weakened as her frail jaw lowered. I anticipated her to say something…but she just stood there. My name held no importance but she looked at me if I had given her a secret to savor. I guess she didn’t expect me to tell her. I step towards the door and she quickly gains her composure.
“Acel, it was nice to meet you. Good luck…whatever you plan to do. Please reconsider. You belong here.”
“I don’t belong anywhere. I haven’t for as long as I can remember. If I ever need you I’ll come back, otherwise goodbye. Good luck with your revolution.”
She steps forward and reaches inside a fold of her robe and says, “Take this, remember what I’ve said.”
I take her gift and let it rest on my open hand as I examine it. She is trying too hard to convince me I suppose. It’s worthless to me. Nonetheless, I decide to keep it. What harm could it do?
Walking away, I finally felt free. I haven’t felt like I was in control for a long time. A new man walks the dead lands. No one had seen his face before in the streets. He walks all the dark alleyways and stays at all the shady places. He asks dangerous questions. He always wants to know about Clerics. Where do you find them? What are their real names? He is polite and friendly to most everyone. He seems like your everyday sheep from an outside perspective. He wears worn leather boots, loosely fit dark pants, a tattered old brown shirt, and his ruffled brown hair nearly covers his eyes. In a crowd you couldn’t notice him. That’s the way he likes it. One day he goes to the nearest arms smith.
It’s a dark place. The air is thick with the scent of damp wood. Light barely penetrates through the tarnished windows. The effect leaves a gloom of death. Spider-webs cover the corners of the room. The darkness contrasts deeply with the proprietor of the establishment. A well rounded fellow, his smile is nearly as wide as the Andreas Gap. He scratches the stubble on his face as he eyeballs the young customer. Finally he breaks the long standing silence.
“What do you need fella?”
The man takes his time as he finally makes a decision. He grabs the merchandise and stands steadfast, his piercing gaze holds the owner’s attention.
“These two.”
The young man places two guns on the counter. Two very unique pistols each earlier inscribed with names. More than likely pawned by previous owners for food or clothing.
“Ah, Redeemer and Guardian. I wondered when someone would take an interest in these beauties.”
“What do you want for them?”
“Hmm, what do you have?”
“Don’t hassle me. Here…this is all I can give. Take it or leave it.”
The young man removes his necklace. A golden chain with a small pendant in the center. The emblem carves a simple etching of the symbol for The Order.
“Well what a find. It’s hard to find these just laying around.”
“I said don’t hassle me.”
“Quite right. This will do. This will do just fine.”
“Good. When I’m done I’ll be wanting to pawn these back for it.”
“Well if it hasn’t sold yet, I’ll be glad to do business with you fellow. It seems like I might be doing some more business with you stranger. I’m Leban. What’s your name?
He holds out his solid thick hands as friendly as he could. The young man looks at the offer as if a strange beast wished to offer friendship. Grudgingly he holds his out and shakes the beasts hands.
“Call me Acel.”
~Justinian