Ever Dream - OT WIP [FF6]

[Izumi]

Uhmmm....so far I don't like how this is going. It seems trite. But maybe I can get some feedback here that can assist it.

The beginning sentence is weak, as is everything past the Celes-thinking-to-herself bit. >.> Suggestions are welcome. Plot? The butterflies got it I'm afraid, then they took off.



-----------------


Learning to live a civilian's life proved to be more difficult than she expected. She walked and talked like a soldier, attributes which instantly set her apart wherever she went, even when she dressed like a townswoman rather than a warrior.

Peace certainly was a very trying state of existance.

Though she enjoyed the quiet village of Albrook, Celes still often thought a little guiltily about her previous "lives". She could not help but wish there were something exciting to experience, something new to see. Rebuilding was easier for those who had come back to old homes, but Celes had no family to return to and no home to save. And while her other friends had tried to continue life as before the coming of Kefka - save Terra, who had her own large surrogate family - there was no real place where Celes felt she belonged.

Retirement at age eighteen was certainly not how Celes had imagined her life would turn out. She had envisioned many roles for her future self, as a girl, that changed with the passing moons, some vanishing as quickly as they were brought [flippantly] into existence.

When she was very young, just beginning her magic training and before she had been thrust headon into military service, Celes had briefly entertained the kinds of ambitions shared by the little girls in the village preschool. She wanted to marry a handsome prince - she wanted to wear a ballgown and attend a masquerade. She wanted to be rescued by a dashing hero with silken silver hair. (She supposed that perhaps it had partially come true.) As a child, lovingly outfitted in white satin hair ribbons by her long-dead father, Celes had dreamed of being an ice princess, travelling between cities like the wind, using her healing and elemental magics to help those in need before disappearing without thanks. It was a very romantic notion, her father had agreed with a sad smile, but her magics were going to be very useful to the Emperor when she grew up, and she would be a very busy woman.

Though magic surely was not the only thing that defined Celes Chere, at age twenty-one she was not the busy woman her father had spoke of anymore; rather, the most exciting parts of her days were when she could go to market or the pub and not be recognized for either of her considerable roles in the war. It was the latter of the two that she indulged in now, sipping a strong brandy and pushing curled bangs irritatingly away from the glass. She wore her long blonde hair back, a golden clip securing it, with two curly tendrils loose over her ears. Green arm warmers and a simple green tunic was her usual style now, with golden bangles at her wrists. She liked to think that this simple style was attractive and unique - and far enough removed from her costumes of war that she would not be recognized on sight. She supposed that she ought to be looking at that elusive "normal" ideal again, where she would find a nice vilage boy - she was young and pretty, after all - marry him, and tend house while two-point-five blonde, green-eyed children played in the yard.

Really, she hated the idea, but she had been sitting around for three years relying on Edgar's generous gifts (saving the world did not actually pay well) for clothing and what she had managed to grab from her military bank account (she hated having to use that dirty money) for food. She was not desperate, but she desired self-sufficiency. She'd thought many times about going to the Impresario of the Opera House and asking about a job, but when it came down to it, her pride always stopped her from saying the words.

Someone slid into the seat across from her, interrupting Celes' reverie. A snappish comment poised at the tip of her tongue until she took note of the fact that the man - sandy-haired and youthful still, he seemed, but clearly older than her - had bandages wound around his face, covering his eyes. Blind, or injured. Or both. She did not ask, simply coughed lightly and said a soft "hello".

If the man was surprised to find the table occupied, he did not show it. "Hi there. Hope you don't mind company."

His voice was comforting, almost familiar, but very soft. She had to strain to hear him. "Not at all. I can move if you're waiting for someone though."

Something changed in his expression. Perhaps he had thought she was someone else. "Oh, no, I'm alone. Just came into town."

He didn't look like he'd "just come into town". In fact, he was very well-dressed and his clothes looked brand-new. The longish, sandy hair was swept back from his face, in a neat, smooth wave. It curled up slightly at the nape of his neck, as though it had been teased. In fact, Celes noted, he might be quite handsome under all the bandages. He was certainly well-kept. He wore a navy blue collared shirt made of a soft material. "You're a traveller?"

"Somewhat. I'm a messenger." He could read something in her silence. "You're wondering about the eyes."

"Well..."

"It's not permanent," he said with a gentle laugh. His voice was so compelling that she had to concentrate to actually hear the words. "I got Inked by a monster just outside."

"Oh!" At once she rose, her hand clasping his. "That's easy to solve! The shop is just nearby."

"No eyedrops in stock." He shrugged. Again there was something easygoing and comfortable about his movements. She thought she might have known him, once upon a time.

"Then I'll--" she faltered. Cast a spell? Not any more. The white mage's ambitions were among those dashed forever. "I'll bring you to my place, I have lots of items, I know I have eyedrops there somewhere."

"Please--stay a little longer." His hand curled around a glass of rum. "I'm in no hurry."

"But you can't see."

"Your voice is more than enough, my lady," he said gallantly, and there was a noticible change in his tone. Surely he was imitating someone, even making fun, but blushed. Expectantly, he smiled at her.

She smiled back.




--not even end of a chapter...just happens to be where my train of thought went speeding off to bed. Oops.--
_________________
One of the three EXE sisters! *Armstrong-style pose*

avatar by caramell_dansen

[Izumi]

Uhmmm....so far I don't like how this is going. It seems trite. But maybe I can get some feedback here that can assist it.

The beginning sentence is weak, as is everything past the Celes-thinking-to-herself bit. >.> Suggestions are welcome. Plot? The butterflies got it I'm afraid, then they took off.



-----------------


Learning to live a civilian's life proved to be more difficult than she expected. She walked and talked like a soldier, attributes which instantly set her apart wherever she went, even when she dressed like a townswoman rather than a warrior.

Peace certainly was a very trying state of existance.

Though she enjoyed the quiet village of Albrook, Celes still often thought a little guiltily about her previous "lives". She could not help but wish there were something exciting to experience, something new to see. Rebuilding was easier for those who had come back to old homes, but Celes had no family to return to and no home to save. And while her other friends had tried to continue life as before the coming of Kefka - save Terra, who had her own large surrogate family - there was no real place where Celes felt she belonged.

Retirement at age eighteen was certainly not how Celes had imagined her life would turn out. She had envisioned many roles for her future self, as a girl, that changed with the passing moons, some vanishing as quickly as they were brought [flippantly] into existence.

When she was very young, just beginning her magic training and before she had been thrust headon into military service, Celes had briefly entertained the kinds of ambitions shared by the little girls in the village preschool. She wanted to marry a handsome prince - she wanted to wear a ballgown and attend a masquerade. She wanted to be rescued by a dashing hero with silken silver hair. (She supposed that perhaps it had partially come true.) As a child, lovingly outfitted in white satin hair ribbons by her long-dead father, Celes had dreamed of being an ice princess, travelling between cities like the wind, using her healing and elemental magics to help those in need before disappearing without thanks. It was a very romantic notion, her father had agreed with a sad smile, but her magics were going to be very useful to the Emperor when she grew up, and she would be a very busy woman.

Though magic surely was not the only thing that defined Celes Chere, at age twenty-one she was not the busy woman her father had spoke of anymore; rather, the most exciting parts of her days were when she could go to market or the pub and not be recognized for either of her considerable roles in the war. It was the latter of the two that she indulged in now, sipping a strong brandy and pushing curled bangs irritatingly away from the glass. She wore her long blonde hair back, a golden clip securing it, with two curly tendrils loose over her ears. Green arm warmers and a simple green tunic was her usual style now, with golden bangles at her wrists. She liked to think that this simple style was attractive and unique - and far enough removed from her costumes of war that she would not be recognized on sight. She supposed that she ought to be looking at that elusive "normal" ideal again, where she would find a nice vilage boy - she was young and pretty, after all - marry him, and tend house while two-point-five blonde, green-eyed children played in the yard.

Really, she hated the idea, but she had been sitting around for three years relying on Edgar's generous gifts (saving the world did not actually pay well) for clothing and what she had managed to grab from her military bank account (she hated having to use that dirty money) for food. She was not desperate, but she desired self-sufficiency. She'd thought many times about going to the Impresario of the Opera House and asking about a job, but when it came down to it, her pride always stopped her from saying the words.

Someone slid into the seat across from her, interrupting Celes' reverie. A snappish comment poised at the tip of her tongue until she took note of the fact that the man - sandy-haired and youthful still, he seemed, but clearly older than her - had bandages wound around his face, covering his eyes. Blind, or injured. Or both. She did not ask, simply coughed lightly and said a soft "hello".

If the man was surprised to find the table occupied, he did not show it. "Hi there. Hope you don't mind company."

His voice was comforting, almost familiar, but very soft. She had to strain to hear him. "Not at all. I can move if you're waiting for someone though."

Something changed in his expression. Perhaps he had thought she was someone else. "Oh, no, I'm alone. Just came into town."

He didn't look like he'd "just come into town". In fact, he was very well-dressed and his clothes looked brand-new. The longish, sandy hair was swept back from his face, in a neat, smooth wave. It curled up slightly at the nape of his neck, as though it had been teased. In fact, Celes noted, he might be quite handsome under all the bandages. He was certainly well-kept. He wore a navy blue collared shirt made of a soft material. "You're a traveller?"

"Somewhat. I'm a messenger." He could read something in her silence. "You're wondering about the eyes."

"Well..."

"It's not permanent," he said with a gentle laugh. His voice was so compelling that she had to concentrate to actually hear the words. "I got Inked by a monster just outside."

"Oh!" At once she rose, her hand clasping his. "That's easy to solve! The shop is just nearby."

"No eyedrops in stock." He shrugged. Again there was something easygoing and comfortable about his movements. She thought she might have known him, once upon a time.

"Then I'll--" she faltered. Cast a spell? Not any more. The white mage's ambitions were among those dashed forever. "I'll bring you to my place, I have lots of items, I know I have eyedrops there somewhere."

"Please--stay a little longer." His hand curled around a glass of rum. "I'm in no hurry."

"But you can't see."

"Your voice is more than enough, my lady," he said gallantly, and there was a noticible change in his tone. Surely he was imitating someone, even making fun, but blushed. Expectantly, he smiled at her.

She smiled back.




--not even end of a chapter...just happens to be where my train of thought went speeding off to bed. Oops.--
_________________
One of the three EXE sisters! *Armstrong-style pose*

avatar by caramell_dansen