rekindleme | To look back upon it

Entry tags:

To look back upon it

Who: Ramza Beoulve, some memories, and you!
Where: Citywide, but particularly Housing Building #1 and the market
When: All day on May 30th
Summary: A catch-all for the memory event! Ramza's been having some pretty unusual dreams lately, drawn from the memories of others. And he's starting to gather that others are likely seeing his own...
Warnings: Memories of familial disdain, death, kidnapping... let's be honest, Ramza's life wasn't sunshine and rainbows.

They weren't the most grisly of dreams he'd had, but the images had burned into his mind with impeccable clarity: Massacre. Betrayal. Confrontation. Elation. Sights and sensations he'd all seen and felt in his fair share yet in worlds unknown... and with names disquietingly familiar.

He knew well enough that the memories weren't his own. The question was whether others would come to recall his.

Ramza had done well in keeping himself out of sight for the first day or two- the last thing he needed were questions about battle or blasphemy when he'd worked for more than a half-year to free himself from the shadows he'd hoped to leave behind in Ivalice!- but he couldn't keep himself out of the eyes of his friends forever any more than he could cloister himself forever.

Besides, he had his guesses for the owners of the lost memories that drifted his way. And if they saw his in kind, they deserved answers. Or perhaps he simply hoped he could exonerate himself from the doubts they no doubt had of him now.

And either way, he was running out of groceries. He'd just... spend a little extra time in the building's lobby and the market square today and see what came of it.

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It was clear to her as she followed Ramza to a quieter place that he was concerned over what she might have seen, as she was about what he might have. But even though that much was obvious to her, she was thinking more about how the memory she'd seen fit into his life and what he'd told her, so his comment didn't quite make sense to her. Certainly he'd never seemed the type to seek out violence for its own sake, and she never would have imagined him so.

Her hand came to her mouth as she considered him for a moment, head tilted slightly.

"I would not think such things of you, Ramza," she replied, "no matter what I may see. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been to fight in a war whose intentions are so unclear."

"I--"

Her words brought his thoughts to a sudden halt. Certainly to hear her forgiveness and understanding was a relief, and he quietly chastised himself for presuming she had seen the worst... but what could she have seen of the war amidst his memories?

Well, it was a better charge than heresy. He nodded, though hardly knowingly. "...It was for bloodshed, and bloodshed alone," came his reply, his gaze moving aside. "Dancing at the strings of... otherworldly puppeteers. I was quick to cut my ties to it, but I only mired myself further below its surface..."

But to discuss that at length would take them until the next morning; instead, he cut himself off with a sigh as they approached a bench, and he wearily dropped into sitting.

"...But it's a pale plight beside yours, Freya. To imagine Odin's phantom blade culling not the flesh of a troop but an entire people..."

Even the barest recollection left Ramza's skin crawling and his spine quivering. How many times had he seen his own allies summon that esper's aid..?

"To stand so proud and defiant in such a grim shadow... you truly have strength beyond measure, Freya."

"I know that you would do everything in your power to right any wrongs you'd unknowingly done," Freya replied, her full confidence behind it as she put a hand on his shoulder, only removing it once he moved to sit.

She sat beside him, ready to listen to his story, but it seemed he would rather focus on her struggles and what he had seen, and she let her head fall when she realized what memory he'd received. The thought of it still weighed heavy upon her shoulders, and if she dwelt on it too long, it would pull her in like a void

The dragon knight shook her head, a somber look on her features as she replied.

"Had I true strength, I could have done something more to save my king and my people. But my efforts did nothing to slow Alexandria's plans to decimate both Burmecia and Clerya."

("There are things beyond the power of our changing...")

Gods, did it kill him to remember it. Just as it killed him to hear it, years ago. Yet perhaps he needed to hear it then... back when he still believed that he- that anyone could move mountains. That he, alone, could right the wrongs of the world itself on his own endeavor.

He wondered if Freya came to bear the weight of her world across her own back, as well.

"I fared no better, in the end," he spoke almost at a whisper as he peered out into the crowd. "I could forestall only the very worst of the war, and for all my labors I could not even save my family..."

Though she'd moved her hand off his shoulder, his hand soon fell upon hers in kind. He wished he could rouse her from her sorrow so easily, but... it wasn't his place. There was no room for platitudes or idle words of encouragement in what depths he could glimpse of it.

Yet... What familiar fathoms they were. And for her talk of failure, she stood too tall to be a woman broken.

"...Freya, I--"

By the Gods, it had a ridiculous feel even before the words had reached his lips. But when he finally returned his sight to Freya, he could not even care how he sounded in speaking it.

"...I know not when we will return, or what we bring to our homelands when we do. But I pray of you, carry this one thought back with you, if you can take naught else-"

"Do not give up."

In some ways she could imagine how Ramza must have felt to lose his family, as she had lost her people. They were both soldiers of a sort, ready to fight for their lands, and yet their respective wars seemed to only take things from them. It was a terrible fate, but she would take it on herself if only to keep it from another. She only wished she could do more than that.

But Ramza's encouraging words and his heartfelt sincerity managed to bring her out of her thoughts as tears began to sting her eyes, and she smiled before pulling him into another hug.

"I had no intention to," she reassured him. "And I pray that you shall follow your own words. You are too good a man to fall into despair."

How humbled he felt to say such a thing only to be pulled into her arms once more for it. For a moment, he even chastised himself all the more for it; Bah, that kind of sentimentality hardly suited him to begin with, especially in light of his deeds over the years.

But, though he would think it in so many words and phrases a dozen times in a scant few seconds, a mournful sigh left his chest, his own arms tightening around Freya's back as he blinked away the wetness gathering at the corners of his eyes.

Damn it all. In spite of his best efforts, for aught and all, he couldn't convince himself he was wrong.

It was only a few more seconds before he spoke. "...what was it you saw, Freya...?"

She remained silent for a few short moments, taking a breath and not yet letting go, though her grip wasn't tight enough that she'd prevent Ramza from pulling back should he want to.

"An argument with your brother, Zalbaag," she replied, and how miserable a conversation it was came through in her voice. "You told him your suspicions about the war, and he said you were not fit for your family's name."

Though she of course had sympathy for the pain he must have felt about it, she wouldn't attempt to say it in any way that wasn't clear. He deserved to know exactly what of his life she'd seen.

All he needed to hear was his older brother's name, and- in light of her earlier words-he knew there was only one conversation it could have been. No wonder she knew the murk of deceit that marinated that war... no wonder she offered her sympathies before.

With a last, deep breath of his own, his grip eased, and he drew back with a hesitant, lingering touch. He was far from starved for it in recent days, in his endeavors and business, but somehow, it felt entirely too soon to let go...

"...Such remembrances say enough on their own," he finally replied by the time he'd seated himself back upright and proper, though by his slumped shoulders he seemed spent all the same. "My name was ever a mantle of martial pride and leadership- and I, alone among my brothers, the deserter and heretic with bleeding heart." He gazed off into space. Into his own recollections, drifting ahead in time until the happiness among his brothers turned to bitterness... and then to memory alone.

But, as they took rein of his thoughts, his memory called forth his arrival at Saeng Seong. The first peace he'd found in years. Celebration, chilled battles, daring ventures. And crimson color beside him.

"...Thank you."

By the time he'd lifted his head back to meet her sight, his countenance- however weary- had taken the look of a small smile.

Her own hand remaining on Ramza's shoulder as she sat back, she listened to him reminisce in silence, unsure of what to say to comfort him. He had clearly gone through much that she wasn't aware of, and she feared that any words she'd find might only make him feel worse.

She shook her head at the thanks. "There's no need to thank me, Ramza. I am only trying to return the support and kind words you've given to me."

Perhaps that modesty was another fault shared between them... but it, much like compassion, was a virtue so often lacking in his own world. How often had even even said that much to a willing ear?

For now, though... perhaps he'd spoken enough. For now. Ramza sat upright, a sweep of his palm pushing his hair from before his eyes. He'd tell her she discredited herself, but...

"...Perhaps."

That would do for now. He wouldn't have heard it of himself, either, and he felt as though he'd set volumes upon Freya's shoulders already.

"I should tell you the rest another time," he spoke out over a moment's rumination. "And have us sit for drinks, if you'd like."

The idea of sharing a drink over their stories, of talking about them without the issue being forced through the sudden sharing of memories, sounded like a much better one than attempting to discuss it as they were. They could speak of it when they were more ready to share.

It wasn't as if Freya intended to keep secrets, but it wasn't something she enjoyed talking about so suddenly, and she imagined Ramza likely felt the same, if not more strongly.

"I would," she replied. "Merely let me know when you'd like to."

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To look back upon it

i know right. what a shocker

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