mooglenet_backup | { Ten - Phone Call to Celes - Action in Figaro } (Slightly Forwarddated)

Something like that. They wanted to create better soldiers. And that's what they got.

[She was fortunate that her drink order came just after his question, so she could hide her surprise better. Stirring the liquid in the glass just a little, she glanced back up at him.]

What makes you think that? [Terra's background isn't her story to tell.]

[He shook his head slightly, still resting against his hand.]

I thought I caught a whisper about it on the network some time back. Thought of it when I saw her change at the Sunleth Waterscape. Curious, nothing more. It's her own business, after all.

Her story, not mine.

[She picked up her glass and used it as a distraction, taking what most people would have considered a gulp and not a sip.]

There's more to the story, though. I was only the second person they put through the treatment. Kefka was the first and it went horribly wrong for him. It warped his mind. He was never the same after that.

[She's pretty sure she doesn't need to say how lucky she was that the same didn't happen to her. It could have ended terribly for her.]

[He offers a grim nod in reply, pausing to take a sip of his own wine before he responds properly.]

Enough to make one wonder why they would continue on with such a study, after being met with such poor results during the first round. [His tone is only slightly wistful, though enough to betray that he knows something of madness firsthand.]

I'm glad you did not suffer similarly.

They were desperate. They wanted to harness the power of magic. And they succeeded.

[She pauses to look at him with a tinge of gratefulness. She catches the tone, but doesn't comment on it.]

Thank you... so am I. Dealing with life is bad enough when you know you had a choice.

Desperation. Not an uncommon motivator. [He says this with some degree of distaste; man trying to harness the power of magic beyond natural means is always messy, in his experience. If the Empire hadn't wanted nethicite so badly...]

Have these experiments been put to an end? They're not continuing such studies where you're from, are they?

[She shares his distaste on the subject. Noting his tone, her eyebrows raise slightly, but again, she doesn't comment.]

I wouldn't know. About a year ago, I stopped working for the Empire. I know they were still working on harnessing the power of Espers, but I don't think anyone else had undergone the experiments Kefka and I did. I could be wrong, though. It's not like I kept tabs on them after I betrayed them.

[...And that was a bit more than she'd wanted to say, so she takes another "sip" of her wine as a distraction.]

I somehow feel that "betrayed" is the wrong term, when it's for a noble enough cause. [He pauses to take a sip of his own wine before lifting his glass.] Though I betrayed my own Empire, as well. I commend you. Cheers.

Depends on who you talk to. [Her eyebrows raise a little higher as she lifts her glass and gently taps it against his.] Cheers. [Sip.] Sounds like I'm not the only one with an interesting past.

[He lightly taps his glass against hers before taking a much more generous drink of his wine. Well, if ever there was a proper time to discuss these things...]

I've a colorful history of my own, yes. It seems that the worlds are rife with oppressive Empires, does it not? Ours was rather obsessed with the acquisition and study of nethicite -- tied to our own Espers, in its way, though none had to die for the cause. No Espers, at the very least. My father was head scientist at the Draklor Laboratory in Archades. He became even more obsessed with the damned nethicite than the Emperor himself. [He glances downwards at his glass, briefly, keeping his expression composed.]

I daresay he forgot about most everything else.

[She doesn't push him for an answer. If he wants to talk, she'll let him. For whatever reason, he's already gotten more out of her than she normally would have given to anyone else. Not many people know this much about her.

At the part about his father, she reaches over - hesitantly, for this isn't something she normally does - and places one of her hands over his free one, the one not holding his wine glass.]

That can happen. [ pause. ] I... never really knew my parents. Cid raised me, but... [She purses her lips. It's still hard to talk about him, even two years later.]

[He glances upwards at the touch, startled. He did not expect her to be so forthcoming, and offers a thin but genuine smile in appreciation. Another Cid? The list of things they had in common was beginning to grow by leaps and bounds.]

You speak of him fondly. He was a kind man?

[Normally, she isn't. It surprises her that she's doing the comforting this time. Terra and Locke... Gaia, even... have had a greater effect on her than she thought.]

He raised me as his own. He was good to me and I loved him. [Her use of past tense could mean any number of things.]

[He inclines his head very slightly, considering the possible meaning of her words. It's possible that she only means he did not follow to Gaia, but from her tone and the very slight shift in her eyes, he presumes this is not the case. He lightly brushes his thumb against hers, his hand still beneath hers on the table.]

He's gone, then. I'm very sorry.

My own fault. [Her voice changes, turning harsh again. A moment later, she pulls back again, moving to grip her wine glass with both hands now. That's one subject she hates talking about. The guilt she feels... she doesn't want to think about it.]

I'm surprised Kefka didn't kill him. Maybe he just missed his aim when he blew the world apart.

[He retracts his own hand, watching her shift in expression with interest. He knows that very feeling all too well. Overwhelming guilt, even if the circumstances demanded certain actions. Even if it couldn't be helped. If it was done by your hand, directly or indirectly, you lived with that pain forever.]

I know how you feel, to some degree. My apologies for touching on a sore subject. ... it's not an easy thing to live with.

[She just shakes her head in response. It's not his fault. That's just where the conversation went. She takes a breath and tries to steer their talk back on a more neutral subject.]

It's been two years since I last saw my home and even then... well, when I say Kefka blew the world apart, I'm not kidding.

Is there much of anything to go back to, then? [He raises an eyebrow at that description. Whispers of Kefka's deeds had been caught here and there on the network; all in all, the man sounded like someone Balthier would like to avoid for the rest of his days, if at all possible.]

Not really. Just to put an end to him, but I've already heard that happens, so... there's no reason for me to want to go home. [Aside from to be with Locke again, but... even then... she wouldn't trade everything she's found here for that.]

The people at home will never accept me, even a year later. It's better that I just stay here.

It's incredible how ungrateful people can be. [He frowns slightly, taking another sip of his wine.]

I'm glad Gaia has offered a better life for you. It has for many. Provided a second or even third chance for many who desired it.

It's not like they don't have good reason to fear me. [She pauses again, weighing her chances. How much does she say?]

Gaia is... a combination of special and infuriating.

Perhaps, but it sounds as though you were doing more good than they realized before you departed.

[He watches her with interest, patient.]

It is, at that.

[It wouldn't be the first time someone had doubted her and probably wouldn't be the last, either.]

When I said, up on your ship, I'd killed people in cold blood before, I wasn't kidding. I'm not proud of it by any means, but... when you torch an entire town, people don't tend to forgive you so easily.

I didn't think you were. [He shook his head, making his earrings jangle again.]

There are ways to achieve redemption, though it's a long and difficult road. Captain fon Ronsenburg is still known as a kingslayer in Ivalice. It will take years to clear his name properly, to get people to accept the truth of what happened, but he endeavors nonetheless.

... though I must admit, I like my way better. [He smirks just a touch behind his glass.] Change your name and set flight... come to Gaia. A better place for both of us, I think.

[She listens seriously, nodding a bit, and then smirks at his last suggestion.]

Well, I've got the last part covered. No name change, though. It's not like anyone here knows what I've done.

[ Beat. ] I've been trying for almost three years to forgive myself. Maybe it'll happen someday.

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