dreamcrystals | XX3 Entry - [A Dream within a Dream]

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XX3 Entry - [A Dream within a Dream] - Early September

Sender: Beatrix
To: Everyone
Subject: Passive Dream Recording
Warnings: Likely potentially upsetting content. Implications of genocide. I’m going to try to explore this as gently, respectfully, and carefully as I can, but I do emphasise to proceed with caution.
Notes: A dream depicting Beatrix reflecting on some of the war crimes she committed in her home world. It is longer than I expected it to be.

Have some sounds of rain for ambiance.

It is not uncommon for Beatrix to patrol at night, usually following her dreams. It is safe to assume that post this dream, that’s precisely what she does. Feel free to encounter her in person (out on patrol, at her residence) or via journals, though with the latter, it is unlikely she will respond immediately. Assume journal responses are after an applicable amount of time, depending on circumstance.

Her dreams most oft are accompanied intimately by rain. Sometimes, it is the blistering sound of wind. Occasionally, the consistent roar of airship engines and the turning of gears. And every once in a while, it is the sound of wood splitting and cracking, followed by a flash of light and the deafening explosion that trails after in its wake.

Tonight, it is rain. A sky looms overhead, blanketed by dark clouds and the occasional tendril of lightning. The blue-grey cobblestone pathways are soaked, so much so that in places where the footpaths dip after years of wear and tear, they are filled with reflective and rippling puddles of water. The front entrance stone archway is intricately detailed and has been standing for too many years to count, established likely earlier than some native to the world may think.

Welcome to Burmecia, the Realm of Eternal Rain.

It holds nothing precious, except life. Life that Beatrix, general of Alexandria, has been tasked with taking.

This is something that has already happened. Beatrix simply replays it near nightly, and the dreams rarely seem to change. Her boots echo softly on the ground in a momentary eerie silence and behind her where she has already been, the environment simply turns to stone. A broken down cart knocked over, its wares splattered on the pathway and up against the wall of a nearby multilevel home, once in muted colour now sits in permanent disarray in chilling sculpture.

There are figures slumped. On the grounds. Draped over stairways and metal bannisters. Burmecians—a race of ratlike people, tall in stature, tailed, with pointed ears and pointed noses.

For years, Alexandria and Burmecia have waged wars upon one another. Pitted against each other, the concept of war is not so foreign, though perhaps disappointing when the continent at large believed to be ushering in an era of peace. What has happened here, however, is not war at all. It is only conquest. Only eradication of the Burmecian people. A simple little test conducted by Queen Brahne of Alexandria, utilising constructed black mage dolls with no will of their own and only the orders pounding in their doll heads. The leader of this charge, this show of overwhelming power and influence, is none other than Beatrix, compelled by order and the lust in her veins for something she cannot quite understand, a realisation that she will not come to learn for a great deal of time following.

The Beatrix of today, the one stepping through this replay of a chapter of her life that she has kept hidden and closely held to her heart, is not identical. Not different, but only a part of the woman who carried this out in so impeccably a fashion.

As she steps, there are voices, many words that are garbled and incomprehensible, blending in with the sounds of the pitter-patter of the rain as it strikes. If one listens closely, an occasional scream, a memory left over from an otherwise desolate and ruined city-state, disrespected and torn asunder by invasion. Some lines of memory highlight the tense air in voices that are not Beatrix’s as she continues this reunion with this intimate knowledge of her past.

”That’s Beatrix? The cold-blooded knight who knows no mercy. Beatrix…”

In the square of the city-state, the homes in the vicinity are worn down, most of them only partially standing. A curving bridge pathway leads to the towering, ominous, and impressive figure of Burmecia’s castle, stretching tall towards the sky as lightning flashes about it.

”...Beatrix of Alexandria, in particular. They say her swordsmanship is the best in the land.”

As she moves along, Save the Queen in the grip of her right hand, a chain that binds her to obligation and her role, there are but glimpses, moving images for just moments that betray the chaos that ensued upon her initial charge. The movement of feet and the blur of bodies before they’re cut down or subjected to the magicks of the black mages. As she takes to the bridge and its connecting path, the commotion freezes, transposing image and concept to stone and reality, like macabre decor in a courtyard.

Before the entrance, it’s her own voice that echoes in a stunning clarity. An embittered laugh, hand-in-hand with chilled tone. Unfeeling. Uncaring. So professional and emotionally detached that one would think Beatrix feels nothing at all in this exchange, except an irritation. In what, one can only theorise.

”I have never been so humiliated in my life.”

The castle stands above her and she finds in its centre, a couple of grandiose statues, some of the only things remaining that have yet to be broken down and destroyed. There is the lingering memory of Queen Brahne in search of Burmecia’s king, only to find by way of a charming and sinister man, the one who has provided her so much power to begin with, that the king has fled to the tree protected by the wind—Cleyra.

There are other things to note. A couple—Burmecian woman standing alongside a tailed statue that some may recognise as Zidane, the cunning and charismatic companion to many. They possess no movement. Only presence in colour doused in greys. And she hears herself again, the same chill wrapping her in tight embrace.

”I once killed a hundred knights single-handedly… To me, you two are nothing more than insects.”

Approaching them each, one after the other, Beatrix lifts a hand and she settles it to the forearm of the Burmecian she will one day come to know as Freya and it takes only touch for her to join her statued brethren. There is a moment’s pause as she examines a Zidane that once was part of her past. In Reverein, he may not have forgiven her, but he never seemed to hold her actions against her and Beatrix, to this moment, to this very breath, still cannot understand why. The only clue she has ever had is that the Beatrix of his future is different than the one who was the head of this calamity.

Settling hand to his shoulder, she puts him to rest, and lifts her chin to hear her voice once more. A woman who is only a part of her, but perhaps one she has yet to embrace. To this moment, she has only ever admonished and condemned herself, placing distance between her person and others, knowing that she would rather be hated than pitied, rather hated than forgiven.

”How ridiculously weak… Is there not anyone who is worthy of facing me?”

For the moments that follow, she simply stands in the rain, drenched, sword dropped low at her side, and she stares at the muted sombre sky, foreboding and dreadful. The words that follow are her own.

“The only thing I have granted to the Burmecian people is a grand tomb, forever frozen in time, place, and circumstance.”

They are the last and only words she manages to say before she too, turns to stone like those around her. This moment has no end. An interior part of her that refuses to weather and is only subjected to an infinite rain, marking the abrupt end to a dream that Beatrix never forces herself to finish.

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[It doesn't surprise him to learn that she always strives for perfection. Hans considers himself to be hard working, but he's certain that she pushes herself further.]

Try not to exhaust yourself with that endeavor. There will hardly be any judgment from if you wish to take a day off from that.

[ It hasn’t escaped Oriphi, the way that they continue to talk about her relationship with Dohalim and yet not, given the way that Beatrix has barely spoken of her own feelings when it comes to the matter. She can hazard a guess as to how Dohalim feels, given the messages they had exchanged that night (though to his credit, Ori still hadn’t been completely sure where he and Beatrix stood even after writing him). And she knows how she feels about the two of them: she is happy for them, and she can see all of the ways that they might be a good fit for one another. And she knows that navigating these sorts of relationships, and how they come to be - it’s difficult to grapple with, in a realm made of something as fickle and fleeting as dreams.

But still, she doesn’t know: how does Beatrix feel about all of this…?

Apart from the fact that she feels undeserving of it. Because of course she does. Ori felt that way once, too. ]

…How do you feel, Beatrix? Does it make you happy, being with him? To know that you can rely on him when things are difficult, like they were that night?

Where were you ten years ago when I needed to hear that?

[Beatrix actually suspects it began before that, but ten years prior had made quite the change to her lifestyle. Maybe better late than never is well-suited here.]

I suppose I may be able to find it in me to not strive for that every day. Given how some of you seem so intent on distracting me, I suspect I may not have time to reach perfection.

[And that. Is 'thank you' in Beatrixese.]

[It's a dreaded question, actually, one of the ones that Beatrix has continuously hoped someone else wouldn't ask her. It's not because she doesn't have any feelings for the peacocking redheaded former lord. It's because she doesn't want to have to talk about them. Having to even remotely imply them to Dohalim had been almost like pulling teeth out of her. To someone else...

It's much easier to dance around the subject, admit that he's good to her and treats her well and leave it at that, which was precisely what she told Eustace and Tifa when they enquired. And right after that, she admitted that she couldn't put much faith into a relationship that wasn't going to last in a world she couldn't stay in.

A very complicated conversation that one was.]

I would like it very much if I did not need to answer questions like that.

[She has to be honest. It makes her uncomfortable. Of course, the only way to get over that is to actually just talk about it.]

I acknowledge that he treats me well and kindly. Is that not enough?

[No, of course it isn't. Because she needs to actually be able to confront her own feelings.]

That's what some of us are really good for. I call it a life skill.

[Even if they can't see each over these journals, Hans finds himself smiling just a bit.]

[ For the most part, Oriphi is content to leave Beatrix and her apparent allergic reaction to talk about feelings well enough alone. She tries to be mindful of other’s boundaries, and she never wants to overstep in fear of… Well, of being turned away, at the heart of it.

But in the wake of everything, lately… She finds herself feeling a little… bothered that even in this, Beatrix wants to avoid talking about how she feels and seems to want to pretend that her own feelings aren’t important.

So the tiefling says something she doesn’t often say: ]

No.

[ She hesitates, then, drawing in a deep breath as if to keep herself from blabbering on. ]

I mean. It’s good to acknowledge that… But you can’t pretend your own feelings don’t exist. It’s not good for you, or for him. [ Then, she sighs. ] I’m sorry. I don’t mean to preach. Your relationship with Dohalim isn’t for me to intervene with or anything, I just…

I would hate to see you keep yourself from chasing happiness.

If you say it like that, you are making it sound intentional, Your Highness. That works both ways, you know. I can be distracting, if I need to be.

['No' is not what Beatrix expects to hear and it admittedly catches her almost immediately by surprise. But when Oriphi continues, what she says is sound. Logical. Beatrix has an instinct to retort, but instead, she simply says nothing to begin with. After a beat of consideration, she tips her head thoughtfully.]

I know what my own feelings are well enough. I just do not like sharing them. I... suppose that is unfair to Dohalim. I act incapable of saying the things he deserves hear or should hear. I withhold intentionally simply for my own comfort. Not just him either. I am that way with everyone.

[She shakes her head.]

And the only excuse I have is that I am trying to protect myself.

[Loosing a breath, Beatrix shifts her weight, lifting a hand into her hair before she shakes it about loosely.]

I appreciate Dohalim. I... like and value his companionship, what challenge he presents to me in his varied ways. I accept that he has deep feelings for me and I have mine for him in my own way. I may not be able to say it, to tell him the way he deserves, but words are not the only ways to express something. If I did not want it, I would not tolerate his presence. I do not do things that I do not care to.

[At least, not in this world.]

If you're busy distracting me, does that mean I've still succeeded in distracting you?

That is technically correct, yes. I would consider this entire conversation very distracting.

[And perhaps, in a way, she's thankful for it.]

If you are keeping me busy, then it stands to reason that I would be keeping you busy as well.

The people there will not know— but you will. That is a victory in and of itself.

[It does not change what has already come to pass, because nothing can, but there is something to be said for self-improvement for its own sake. Even with that mindset, it is unlikely to be easy, but Beatrix has never struck him as one to take the easy path.]

It is... hard to say, what impact our deeds here will have in the future. You are likely right, that their weight will not carry over, but there is a part of me that wants to believe something within us will remember.

[Otherwise, everything they do here, the bonds they form... would those, too, be for nothing?]

I cannot let myself believe our time in this place to be meaningless.

["I cannot let myself believe our time in this place to be meaningless."

It's a foolish thought, really. Beatrix doesn't say it. Won't say it. Not in this circumstance. Not with all that's been said and done, especially betwixt them. To do so would only be insulting. Mostly to him and his efforts and she has better sense. But she suspects it's evident in her expression, even as her gaze drops back into her tea, that she doesn't agree with him. That she's never agreed with such a notion.

The only thing she's ever really wanted, or so she's told herself, since arrival, is to go back. It's in part the reason she refused to grow close to others. But time has had its way with her. She doesn't like thinking about how it's changed her or how she perceives things here.]

I suppose one day perhaps we will all find out how true that is.

[She feels like it's the only thing she can say. Surely she has filled enough of this conversation with her struggles and her dangerously calculative and cold way of perceiving the world and the people in it.]

I hope for your sake, and for the others here, that you are right.

Well, it's a good thing I enjoy being busy, especially since I've found myself with far less duties in this world. And this is probably one of my favorite pastimes here.

[ She listens dutifully, and though she smiles at Beatrix, there’s a melancholic veil that tints her expression. Her words are painfully familiar, and yet it’s in that familiarity that she feels reassured. Because it means that Beatrix knows she does this, and that in itself is a step away from simply denying it all - which is what Oriphi had been worried about.

At length, she sighs in a bit of relief and shakes her head, unable to help herself from once again drawing a comparison… ]

You and Diluc really are alike.

[ Still, it’s said most fondly and without any hint of exasperation, despite how difficult it had been to grapple with their different ways of expressing feelings when they first began their relationship. Thoma, of course, played a big part in encouraging both he and Ori to open up more. In his absence, perhaps the two of them have fallen back on some old habits, brought to light only in the wake of what happened with Eustace. Since then, they’ve pledged to never hide from one another, and because of that she has faith that one day Beatrix may stop hiding her heart from others. Or at the very least, from Dohalim. ]

I feel a lot better after hearing all of that. I’m sorry to have forced it out of you. I don’t… Normally want to, but… I just want to see you be happy, Beatrix. And you don’t have to feel pressured to show it in the same ways that others do. Just be yourself, but all of yourself. Don’t hide from Dohalim.

[ With a sweeter smile, she adds: ] I really am happy for you both, you know.

[...?]

Distracting people in general or distracting me specifically?

["You and Diluc really are alike."

Beatrix can't even be surprised by the observation because she's certainly drawn lines betwixt them more than once. It also means, however, that Oriphi probably has a greater understanding of her as a result. Maybe a kind of understanding that she doesn't want another to have. Harder to hide herself when that's the case.

She tilts her head, eyeing Oriphi wordlessly as she listens and considers the reflections of herself that she's found in others. And then she looses a sigh. Feels like nothing she could say would be good enough.]

That. [She begins thoughtfully before she clears her throat.] That is a work in progress. [Beatrix leans back against the bench and she lifts her chin to eye the sky.] There are a lot of things in the way. Things that I do not know what to do about. Things I assume just require time. Things that may not go away with time, or not in time soon enough.

[Then she looses a short-lived laugh.] I think all things considered, Dohalim is not going to be inclined to let me hide much. That said, I am certain if you share your enthusiasm with him, he will meet it with his own.

Both.

But distracting you specifically might be a personal favorite.

[Because of a multitude of reasons, really.]

A personal favourite?

[...How flustering.]

I think that is a compliment, but I cannot tell for certain.

[This whole 'nightmare' for Beatrix has devolved into this and Hans has no regrets.]

It's a compliment, General. It means I enjoy speaking with you, if I may be so blunt.

[Part of him thinks that they might never agree on this point; even if she doesn't say so, it is written across her face. Even if they never agree, it may be for the better— they both have different perspectives to offer one another, points worth giving deeper consideration, and the fact of the matter is that there is no simple answer to any of it. What he wants to believe is not proven, but something he chooses to believe for his own peace of mind.

All that could be dashed in an instant— but he is in no hurry to see such a thing happen.]

Perhaps we will. I confess, I would not mind taking my time getting to that point.

[He does not want to rush through the time they have here, quite selfishly.]

I would like to be right. I am prepared to be proven wrong, but in this one thing... I would rather do away with humility, if I might.

I—

[For just a moment, her words lock in her throat. She's dipping her gaze again, because that is something she can agree on. As much as she could claim that tomorrow she could wake, return to the world she knows well, and give not a second thought to things here, she doesn't want that to be the case. She isn't ready to say a farewell to anyone of them.

Not yet. Perhaps not ever. Perhaps because she has come to value what they mean to her and what changes they have made in her life.]

I would not mind that either.

[Her confession is a touch quiet, easily drowned out by the rest of the noise in her head, even if it's quite plainly said in his presence.]

I am not ready to leave the things in this world behind. I have likely thought that more than I would be willing to say it. Surely the sharing of my dreams, of the past that lingers behind me, would put all of that in jeopardy. The fear of that is very real. The fear that those I care for will look at me differently. Decide that I am somehow less than worthy. A grave disappointment. I am not certain how strong I am to face that. I act strong, but perhaps that is just a ruse sometimes.

[She suspects she would be devastated if in the face of such things Dohalim couldn't bear to look at her.]

[...This is, honestly, a completely different kind of nightmare.]

That certainly is a way to put it. I am beginning to see your plan. Distract me by flustering me. Affectionate strategy. I would not have considered using that myself. I also would not have considered it being effective on me.

[The more one knows.]

You caught me.

Although, I hope that you don't try and gain a resilience against this method. Or I'd have to increase my own compliments towards you.

I never have been good with compliments. Well, anything outside of my combat prowess. I do not think you will have great difficulty if that is your aim. I am too old, I think, to learn new tricks.

[That is. She's too uncompromisingly stubborn.]

[He doubts that she's much older than him, maybe a few years at most? But he's not going to ask a lady of her age--]

It's good to know that I won't have to change tactics all too much then. :)

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XX3 Entry - [A Dream within a Dream] - Early September

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