Post by Celes Chere on Nov 2, 2012 16:39:13 GMT -5
Celes asked herself again, as she looked out her window over the recovering town of Narshe, with its mundane charms and comforts that seemed to volley for her attention - the streaks of sunlight trying to bore through the barren sky Kefka had created, the children in their all-too-heavy boots waddling through the cracks in the road, and most obvious, the small handful of Returners, most of which were in the resistance group long before she'd even been put in shackles, already scattered along the thin grass outside, looking like so many rugs laid out aimlessly. Do I really want to do this and leave the first bit of peace I've ever had in my life? Then, her focus, without her bidding, shifted, and she could see all but the town's comforts. Instead, there was the bleak landscape, still making its way to recovery after Kefka had razed it all to bleakness. There were the men and women of all ages who were suffering visibly from the strain that bleakness had given them, many of them still scrawny or, even worse, visibly distressed at some worry only they knew.
And most noticeable of all, the courtyard a street across from Celes' window, where she, Relm, and Sabin had fought those creatures that she now knew to be called Cie'th.
Celes, frustrated with something - more than likely herself - pushed up from the window and briskly went back to the task at hand. After the last battle with Kefka, she hadn't taken the time to see if her combat attire had taken any damage that she'd overlooked. Obviously, in the aftermath of the battle, she hadn't exactly been focused on whether or not she had torn a hole in her clothing. Now she busied herself with donning the familiar green suit to make sure she had no problematic issues with it, or with the white boots, shoulder guards, or gauntlets that she typically wore with it. Noticing her form moving in the dinky little mirror her room happened to have, Celes didn't look up at herself until she'd slipped the second boot on - what she'd been doing when the window had grabbed her attention - and fitted the rest of the light armor in place. She stopped and looked, turning to the back. Of course, a couple of small indications of damage were present, but the only real issue was a very noticeable area of the suit that simply did not exist anymore, the nucleus of a small, dark ring. Apparently, she'd taken a fire spell in the area that she now couldn't remember. Having been instilled with an imperial general's discipline, she ran a finger through the small hole, which sat nearly under her arm (leaving her to wonder what she could have been doing to have been hit there), and grunted in annoyance, wanting it fixed. Celes knew she didn't have the time, though, considering the deadline she herself had set for her particular arrangement. She also knew it likely wouldn't matter. What would one sewn-up bodysuit do against fal'Cie magic, anyway?
Celes crossed her arms uncomfortably over her chest, the same look of frustration rising into her features as she resigned to stare at the recently-unfamiliar general in the mirror. So much for believing her career as any sort of leader of men was over. Her goal of investigating the fal'Cie had become another endeavor entirely after the attack on Figaro Castle. Celes, for her part, had not seen power so fearsome since Kefka had ascended to his "godhood" and caused the problems Celes could witness from her window daily. To know that the fal'Cie she and her sudden companions had faced on that recent day had been only one of many was genuinely the most terrifying thing she believed she'd ever heard in her young life. Celes wasn't even sure what had brought her to the conclusion that she would dedicate months of her life to tracking down the fal'Cie, and to shielding people from becoming the Cie'th that she still regretted cutting down where they stood. Well, she did know. She had wanted something more. Back when she had been a general, she had wanted to be a teenaged girl, and later a young woman. And now that she could be either of those things, Celes was pining for a time when...when...agh, she wasn't sure. She didn't want the burden of another Kefka, but she wanted something akin to what she'd felt when she had made it her job to reassemble their group after Kefka had destroyed things. Whatever it was, something was telling her she had to do it or regret it forever.
She tapped her foot slightly, before dropping her arms. Do I really want to do this and leave the first bit of peace I've ever had in my life?
Yes, she did.
With the personal resolution made, Celes turned from the mirror and slid the armor off her forearms and shoulders, going for her bit of luggage as she did so to tuck them away. She'd actually pulled the luggage out first and laid it on her bed so she wouldn't have to be the first to bring up her leaving. Celes had waited for some of the other Returners to ask first, and then she'd told them. Of course, not everyone knew. Not everyone was present all the time. Edgar knew due to her voicing her idea in Figaro, of course, and Sabin would also know. Relm, of course, was a girl and obviously had a billion questions for Celes. The rest, though, were primarily off doing their own thing at the moment. Most wouldn't know she was leaving until she was long gone. Locke...was off doing his hunting thing, she believed, so he wouldn't find out until later. Celes' pace with organizing her luggage became more frantic at the thought. She could leave him a letter. A cold, worthless piece of paper.
Again she paused, this time propping up against the open edge of he luggage and slumping over it. Life had almost been easier when she'd been a "slave" to the empire. There had never been any decisions to make...she supposed it was why she had been able to call herself decisive previously. Hah, that notion almost seemed ludicrous now...
Words - 1121
Muse - Beyond great
Outfit - Green battle leotard...thing
Notes - Hope this is okay![/size]
