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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I'm just doing my best...

[ But she's not here to talk about herself, is she?

Beatrix's discomfort is clear, at least. Ori may not be as insightful as her friends, who can easily tell when someone is lying or being deceitful - but she is insightful when it comes to feelings. She'd like to think that she can tell when someone is upset or hurting. What good would she be as a healer if she couldn't tell that much?

And to her, Beatrix surely looks like she is hurting, one way or another. She has to be, after everything that's happened between their encounter with Eustace's noctaere form and now with her dream. As much as Beatrix may want to deny it... She is only human. And a person can only take so much.

At length, she tilts her head, leaning over to try and catch Beatrix's eye. ]

Do you want to sit in the rose gardens with me for a moment?

[It's the kind of prying observation that Beatrix can only handle in small amounts. She is not unfamiliar with being watched. Assessed. Evaluated. Judged. Alexandria has done that to her for over ten years of her life. But when it comes from her friends, in this place, in this world, with the way she is now, it feels almost unbearable.

If Oriphi ever looked at her with disappointment, she's not sure she could endure it. Even if she's certain she deserves that and little else.

Her gaze very deliberately moves onto the basket of healing potions Oriphi has supplied her with and she shuffles through it purely as a means to stall for time.]

I suppose I did not have other things to do. I can spend some time with you, if that is what you want.

[Obviously. That's what Oriphi wants. Or else she wouldn't have asked.]

[ Beatrix is right. It is what she wants, or else she wouldn’t have asked. ]

It is what I want. I think you and I deserve to spend some time together that doesn’t involve…

[ Well, that doesn’t involve either one of them getting the ever-loving shit beat out of them. And yes, she would use those words out loud exactly.

She clears her throat before she offers an arm at Beatrix. ]

Come on, let’s go.

[Beatrix gets it. Something that wasn't what she's going to forever label the Eustace Situation. Speaking of that.

She supposes she has Oriphi to thank for getting involved in her personal life. If she was feeling more like herself, perhaps she'd be a touch more annoyed for not being left to her own devices. Everyone else means the best, however, and Beatrix knows that, no matter how much she very much has only wanted her own space.

Even more so now, she supposes. She spends some moments simply eyeing Ori's arm and after she looses a sigh, she reluctantly curls an arm about the tiefling's.]

Seems you are not inclined to let this go.

[ Many would call her a bit of a meddler for what she’d done. She should have respected that Beatrix wanted to be alone. Perhaps she could have stopped at merely letting Dohalim know that something had happened.

But, after seeing what had happened to Diluc after he tried to keep everything to himself - after that secrecy and those lies and his fighting against noctaere on his own nearly brought the worst to bear - and after their encounter with Eustace… She couldn’t bring herself to let Beatrix be alone. At least, not in the immediate aftermath.

The general at least earns a grateful look from the tiefling as they link arms and begin to make their way to the rose gardens. She knows that she’s been asking a lot of Beatrix, lately, and she knows that it’s uncomfortable and ugly and vulnerable. But… The most worthwhile things often are. ]

I am most certainly not…! I’m not letting you go, Beatrix.

[ In many ways. ]

I won’t say anything more until we’re sitting on our favorite bench in the gardens, but… I’m here for you, okay? Don’t forget that.

["I'm not letting you go, Beatrix."

She isn't sure why, but just hearing it hurts. A part of her doesn't want to acknowledge it at all. A part of her wants to simply pretend she's never heard it. But she wasn't so different when it came to Dohalim's feelings. She suspects she's beginning to understand why she has this approach, however.

She is afraid that her disappointing those around her is inevitable. She will, at some point, let them down. Hasn't she done that already? She certainly didn't think to shield Trahearne and Oriphi from Eustace. And she couldn't even protect the others. Grand General Beatrix, so easily throttled.

Humiliating, really.

Beatrix frowns for several long moments and when Oriphi speaks up again, she pointedly looks aside, lifting her arm to dust fingertips over her cheek.]

You should not say such things. You should not extend such courtesies.

[But she can't control that, can she. And she shouldn't say things like that. It shouldn't even be any of her business. What does it matter what Oriphi does or doesn't do? For all she wants to be emotionally detached, she can't be. In one way or another, those here in this world have found their ways into Beatrix's ever icy heart.

Once, she felt so certain of herself. And now, she is nothing except uncertain.]

[ It’s not a very long walk to the rose gardens by any means, and yet as they walk through the town, its denizens none the wiser to what transpired at the cliffside not too long ago, it feels like an eternity. Fae spirits mingle about as others who have been pulled into this dream world all strive to build lives for themselves in a strange, new land. Some people have rooted themselves. Some are continuing carving out their own place.

But some of them, too, are lost.

A pang of pain lances at Oriphi’s heart at Beatrix’s words. If only she knew what the other woman was thinking, she might know what to say. She would tell the general that she’s sorry, too, or not being able to stay strong enough to protect her as she faced Eustace. That she wanted, so badly, to be able to hold her own so that Beatrix could focus on protecting the most vulnerable of them. But that’s not what happened. Instead, they each received a grim reminder that for all the wonder that this realm can bring, for all its light and love and the unlikely connections it’s created between people who would otherwise never meet, there is a dangerous, dark current that runs beneath. Where the light is greater, so too is the shadow that is cast. This is what Ori has been thinking about, lately. ]

I think I should.

[ She draws in a deep breath, releasing it in a slow exhale. ]

We have to look out for one another, after all. We have to stick together. No matter what. Not any one of us can go through any of this by ourselves.

[ At last, they enter the rose gardens, and it’s not long before Ori leads them to sit where they have sat before while tending to the roses. ]

Many here would agree with that.

[Even objectively, Beatrix agrees, though she doesn't want to say as much. She's always handled things herself. That's why it's still very hard for her to cooperate with others. She doesn't trust others. She tries to, but can't. Wants to, but can't. Acts sometimes that she does, but understands to an extent she is living a lie.

But how is that different from anything else she's ever done? It is possible, that this fostering of friendships with those in this world, this ever slow discovery of her relationship with Dohalim, these things may be among the first things she's ever really done for herself. That she's even begun to examine truth of things.

She doesn't bother to weigh in with anything more. At least not right away.

In time they find the rose gardens and it's only at the bench that she unwinds her arm from Oriphi's, if only to take the time to remove her sword belt and set it down before she seats herself. Crossing one leg over the other, she leaves her hands upon her lap.

Oriphi sounds... like Ira. How many of them does Beatrix have to hurt before they get it? She's just been a fool all along. How is it that none of them see that. Just put themselves in her way. As if they don't think she'll simply cut them down.

...Would she? If she had to...?]

I cannot imagine you have brought me all the way here to say that.

Well, not just that. But that’s one of the things, for sure…

[ It’s merely the preface to what she really wants to say. There’s a lot she wants to say. She does want to apologize for what she feels is a failure on her part to keep the team up. If taking blows and holding the front line is Beatrix’s strength, her role, then making sure she is fit to do so, that everyone is fit to play their parts - that’s Ori’s job. She wants to talk to Beatrix about her dream. She wants to tell her, just as she’d told Diluc, that she is so much more than what her past has made her.

Ori has so much she wants to say. She can only hope that Beatrix will let her, and listen. Similarly, her hands rest in her lap, fingers gathering and curling around the fabric of her skirts. She doesn’t quite look at Beatrix, either, her gaze instead falling on the roses around them as she musters the strength to begin this inevitably difficult conversation in earnest. ]

I think… It would be foolish of me to ask if you’re alright. None of us are alright, after everything… But first, I want you to know that I’m sorry. I let you down that night, in a way.

[ She feels that Beatrix might protest. Might argue that she’s the one who let her down. ]

I think all of us are blaming ourselves for things that happened that night. I know that I am. Things like wishing I had been stronger, or faster… But we’re all feeling that, and you shouldn’t try and bear all that on your own. That’s how we get to these kinds of incidents in the first place…

But I feel that I let you down, because you told me before…

[ ”You cannot protect anyone if something happens to you. Remember that your safety is as paramount as those you seek the companionship of.” ]

That I have to protect myself, too, or else I can’t protect anyone else. I didn’t do a very good job of that. If I had, I could have done something while you fought Eustace. But instead all I could do was watch, while I couldn’t move or do a thing…

[For those moments, she simply listens. Maybe Beatrix does that a lot, actually. Listening more than speaking herself. That's usually how she prefers it. She supposes it's what she'd prefer in comparison to what she otherwise would likely be in a position to do. Or expected to do.

She understands why Oriphi feels the way she does. Of course. They likely all have their own reflections of similarity. Feeling as if they aren't fully themselves. Or the best version of themselves. The truth is, and Beatrix knows there, it wouldn't have mattered how strong she was. That version of Eustace. She never could have prevailed. That's just the way it is. She was always doomed to fail. Most likely.

Power in the hands of one capable to take something like that down... No one should have that kind of capability. Not even Beatrix.]

You do not owe me any apologies. What happened has happened, correct? There is no point in lingering on it now. We said and did the things we had to do. We cannot go back and undo them. It is what it is. We do not need to be discussing this.

[In a way, they're the right things to say. In a way, she even believes them. When they apply to anyone except herself. And in a way, she simply doesn't want to discuss it. Because that's how she is. She avoids the things she doesn't want to face. Evades. Runs in that proverbial way.]

[ Oriphi winces at the words because, well, Beatrix is right. There really is no use for them dwelling on everything that happened last night, and yet… Surely they are all helpless against it. That’s what makes them people. They all want to think about what they could have done better. They all want to be better.

And despite what they all saw that night, despite what Beatrix was made to see in her nightmare… Oriphi refuses to believe that the dear woman beside her whom she’s proud to call a friend could be completely heartless.

After all, if she were, she would not have faced off against Eustace the way that she had, blade shining with brilliance in the otherwise dark and cold cavern - the only light Oriphi could remember after she herself was taken down. ]

That’s true, but… All of us are going to keep wishing things could have gone differently. Because we care…

[ About one another, that is. ]

I just want you to know that despite what happened that night, I want you to feel like you can still depend on me. Gods forbid that something like this happens again to somebody, but… We can never be sure, with the way this place is.

[ A deep breath, and then she keeps going. ]

And before you say anything, I think you’re worthy, Beatrix. No matter what your past and your memories and your nightmares are telling you, too.

[Beatrix simply sits and listens, for once not particularly compelled to leave a hand on her sword, which is normally where it would be. Where it always has been. Can she depend on anyone? Isn't that just like trust? Is someone like her even deserving of that? She doubts it. No matter how much she hears it from Dohalim, from Ira, from Oriphi, from anyone else at all, she doesn't believe it. But that isn't their problem. It's hers.

All of this is her problem. Her burden. Her weight. She can't let anyone else hold it.

"I think you're worthy, Beatrix. No matter what your past and your memories and your nightmares are telling you, too."

No. I am not.

It's distressing to hear it. She doesn't want that kindness, that understanding. Why can't people just leave her alone and let her drown in this? Why can't people just say nothing at all.]

Please...

[She begins, though just starting to say anything makes her feel faint. Her tone betrays her, she's certain, the subtle little waver it holds before she forces herself to restrain. Discipline.]

Please do not say things like that to me. I cannot bear it when you do.

[Pointedly, Beatrix's gaze drops and she can feel her hands tighten on the bench beneath her. The roses behind them touched by Beatrix's disposition drop a petal or two, wither minutely, shudder, and expose the thorns that grow along stems.]

[ For the entirety of their friendship, Beatrix has been ever stalwart. It would be easy for most anyone to leave her at that. Strong, reliable, and proud. But for the entirety of their friendship, Oriphi has also seen glimpses of the woman beneath all of that armor. The woman who, perhaps in spite of herself, accepted a humble offering of chocolate. The woman who saw Ori fretting and working herself into a frenzy at what was intended to be a celebratory occasion and urged her to enjoy herself. The woman who visits these very gardens and tends to the roses even on hottest of summer days.

The woman who once told her not to speak of herself like she were ”little more than an implement to be used and discarded.”

Shouldn’t the true be the same of the general?

After all, Beatrix is, above all, a woman who protects, in Oriphi’s eyes. Whether she is protecting the princess of a land Ori will never know, or protecting her friends in this dream, it makes little difference to the tiefling. She is intimately acquainted by now of what happens when someone protects and gives and holds steadfast for those who cannot, when they stand alone and build walls to protect themselves. But the wall keeps them in the darkness and keeps others out, too… So what happens when they are drowning, alone, within those walls?

The protectors need protecting, too, don’t they?

Beatrix’s voice falters ever so slightly as she speak, and it breaks Ori’s heart. She cannot even fathom how the general must be feeling at this moment, but she knows that of all things, the general does not have to— must not be made to feel alone in her pain. ]

I know it’s painful to hear it, but please listen to me, Beatrix.

[ Tentatively, her hand reaches for the other woman’s, her touch warm and kind and if she is so allowed, flowers would begin to bloom where their hands are joined. ]

I’m not from Alexandria, and I can’t pretend to understand even a little bit what happened. But I know that it’s tearing you apart, what that nightmare showed you. And what Eustace’s waking nightmare showed all of us, too. But you are more than what you were made to do. Even when what you’re made to do is horrible, and ugly, and cruel… When it eats away at you the way that it does… It’s because you’re a person and you have a heart. If you didn’t, you would never care enough to look back on that cruelty.

And you would never care enough to answer your friend’s call when they need you the most. But you do both of those. You always show up. Because you have a heart. And I, or Dohalim, or Tifa and everyone - we will not let you forget that.

[Oriphi is, as she ever has been, filled with soft and sentimental things. They aren't too unlike some of the things that Tifa has said to her. It likely won't be the last time that she hears them. But hearing and listening are two very different things. It would not be difficult to simply turn Oriphi away, by saying she'll do all the tiefling wishes of her, regardless of whatever her true thoughts, her true feelings may be. Even Beatrix knows, however, that Oriphi deserves better.

To be fair, Oriphi has deserved better from the very beginning. Beatrix has been little more than a letdown, really. Maybe she just needs time to recover from it all. She isn't sure what she needs and she isn't sure that whatever that things is, is even available. The way she is, it is possible that those around her cannot help and she will simply continue to masquerade around for the sake of survival.

Oriphi takes her hand and though Beatrix's immediate reaction is to tense, just as she always does, always has, she doesn't rebuke her. At least not in a way that is so obvious or pointed. If anything, it is all inward. Right where it belongs. She's still listening, however. Of course she is. Hanging onto words that she's clinging fiercely to, though she doesn't realise that's what she's doing at all.

There's truth objectively in some of what she says, but things that Zelda has said are also quite true. She isn't a good general. She couldn't properly counsel her queen. Couldn't stop her. Couldn't save her. So she's failed not only once, but twice. Likely more than that, if she's taking Garnet into consideration as well. Finally she looks over to Oriphi and she forces out a laugh.

She has to. How else can she proceed unless she forces herself to.]

I must look something terrible for you to say such things to me. [She shakes her head thoughtfully.] I can no more change your thoughts than you can change mine.

[After a breath, she pats Oriphi's hand gently.]

I appreciate the thoughts all the same. Try to stay out of my affairs. It is fine for me to burdened by these things. It is not fine for you to be.

I’m afraid I can’t do that, Beatrix…

[ Oriphi is so rarely insistent on anything. But healing is one of the few things she will stand her ground on - and that includes healing of wounds that aren’t the sort to bleed. ]

I care about you, Beatrix. You can’t keep on living like you’re all alone in the world and that you have to shoulder everything by yourself. Because you aren’t, and you don’t have to, not anymore. I don’t—

[ She squeezes Beatrix’s hand as she feels her eyes begin to sting with tears. ]

I don’t want to watch someone I care about crumble under the weight of their own emotions… And here, more than anywhere else, it can be dire when that happens… I don’t want to see you or anyone else turn noctaere anymore, so, please— Please, rely on us a little bit more. Don’t say that it’s not fine for me to be burdened by these things.

The General of Alexandria isn’t here anymore. I just want my friend, Beatrix, to be okay.

["You can't keep living like you're all alone in the world and that you have to shoulder everything by yourself. Because you aren't, and you don't have to. Not anymore."

That's just it, isn't it. She's spent so much time alone. She's spent so much time keeping herself isolated from others that now that she has this very precious gift in her trembling hands, she doesn't know what to do with it. She is only afraid of dropping it. Of breaking it into a thousand pieces because of how brutal she is. Because beautiful things in her midst only perish.

But when she sees the shift in Oriphi's expression, she knows that it's because of her. She looks that way because Beatrix has worried her. Pushed her to such a point that she has to live in fear that there may be a repeat of Noctaere Eustace. For not the first time, she wonders what a Noctaere version of herself would be like.

What follows is the shift of her frame as she reaches over to guide Oriphi against her that she might hold her. Maybe she should be the one weeping, but... Beatrix can't remember the last time she did such a thing. When she was a child, perhaps? Although memories of her childhood are fuzzy at best. As if she doesn't know who she was back then, perhaps as much as she doesn't know who she is in these moments.

"The General of Alexandria isn't here anymore."

The General of Alexandria. A woman with no purpose in this world, as Dohalim once reminded her. A woman with no place in this world. A woman who has no choice but to adapt in some way.

As Beatrix buries her face into Oriphi's hair, mindful of the tiefling's horns, she simply settles on the words.

If I should ever turn Noctaere, I can only pray that the rest of you will simply put me down.]

I do not think I have ever been okay. [She admits quietly, opting to simply rest her head against Oriphi's.] But things are as they are, it seems. I would not like to cause you such pain. I will do all that I can to avoid that. For you and for the others.

[It would be easier, however, to accomplish that by minimising that time they share with one another. Fewer opportunities for Beatrix to disappoint.]

[ Oriphi leans into Beatrix as if she’s been wanting this very thing from the general from the very moment they crossed paths with one another today - because she has. She has wanted nothing more than to hug Beatrix, and though Ori is the one that is physically leaning on the other woman at the moment, she can only hope that Beatrix finds some semblance of comfort in the act. She rubs at her face with her free hand to wipe her tears away.

Beatrix doesn’t repel what she’s said entirely. Thank goodness. But Oriphi doesn’t want her to avoid giving into nightmare energy because of what the rest of them might face in such an event. ]

Don’t forget - for yourself too, Beatrix. We can only help you to the very best that we can if you want to help yourself, too…

That woman who stood in the rain… She’s always going to be a part of you. You’ll always carry her around in your heart. Sometimes she’ll feel like a bigger part of you, and sometimes she’ll stay in your past, and that’s okay. What’s important is … She isn’t all of you. [ She had told Diluc something very similar, once. ] The Beatrix I know likes chocolate and wine and roses and is a brilliant swordswoman. She has a troubled past, but so many of us do, too, in different ways… But the Beatrix that I know is just as important. She deserves to have a chance to live and grow and come to terms with her past.

[ Gods know, there are a great number of things that Ori herself isn’t proud of. Things that she did as a mercenary. Things that she and her friends were made to do on their great quest to seemingly save the world. But it’s thanks to those very same friends and the friends she’s made here that she feels as though she can move forward.

She lifts their joined hands together, stretching them out towards some of the wilted roses around them. ]

Roses may wilt and and fall apart, but we have to take them out so that new buds can grow in their place.

[Instead of replying immediately, she resolves to consider instead, just as she's done the entire conversation. Whether she agrees or disagrees is not necessarily so important in her eyes. But listening to Oriphi is, and making sure that current company knows she's listening is just as important.

She touches upon something that Beatrix has given a lot of thought to. Recognition of a person she once was, regardless of the situation. Acknowledgement that the version of her at that time is still a part of her.]

I thought I told you I was not partial to sweet things.

[Although she can't help being a touch amused. She didn't even finish all of the chocolate Oriphi gave to her. In fact, she's sure the remainder of it is somewhere in her kitchen that sees barely any action from her. There's truth in most of that, however. Wine. Roses. Her combat prowess, even if that's been used more for harm than good.

She remains as she is, thinking she's only doing so because of the circumstance. And likely because there aren't other eyes on her. Every once in a while, she can let down her defences. It's a rare happenstance. And Oriphi won't go telling anyone. Probably.

Depends on how much drink someone puts into her, probably.]

Betwixt the two of us, Oriphi, you are more the flower. Let us not make the mistake of thinking I am anything like one. I hear you plainly, regardless.

[ Ori is so caught up in her emotions, she’s somewhat blindsided by Beatrix’s comment and falls silent for a few long moments. That’s right, isn’t it? Beatrix had turned down the offer for s’mores, and even then it took a while to convince her to take even a little piece of bittersweet chocolate…

Still, the memory of it brings an unbearably fond smile on Oriphi’s face, and she shakes her head with a little chuckle, glad to release some of that tension and emotion into the laughter. ]

Right. You did tell me that. I forgot…!

[ Still, she can’t be too upset with herself for forgetting, if only for the touch of amusement in Beatrix’s demeanor. She’s always happy to see Beatrix letting her guard down even the slightest bit. Each time is a precious gift, a sign that the other woman trusts and relies on her - which is exactly what she’s hoping for. The worst case scenario for Beatrix would be that Ori would tell Diluc. Something along the lines of, ”I spent time with Beatrix in the rose gardens today. I got her to smile!” But then the secret would die there, likely to be guarded with ferocity by the man who very much reminds her of Beatrix in a lot of ways, too. ]

Why can’t we both be flowers? You’re just like a rose, after all. So elegant, though you have your thorns. But that’s okay. Despite that, roses are still so beloved…

[ Just like you. ]

[Beatrix shakes her head, knowing very well that it doesn't really matter to her if people remember that or not. At the time, the only thing that was really important was the idea that Oriphi had been thinking about her. And curious. She showed interest in a woman who, at the time, was very clearly not keen on fulfilling any of that interest for anyone.

How much things have changed between then and now. Beatrix is not unrecognisable by any means. She still sees much of herself. Not necessarily stagnant, but she has developed a knack for patience she didn't think she would have. She has learned to temper herself, not unlike the way a smithy tempers a weapon.]

Am I, then.

[A rose. Others would likely agree. It's a bit on the nose, really. The hair. The rose insignia embroidered onto her garb. Beatrix's rather thorny attitude. The way she has, in some ways, dropped proverbial petals to showcase just a touch of what she might be like when she's not protecting herself so fiercely.]

I do not think I much like being perceived as soft or delicate. I think that suits you far more.

[She lingers as is for just a few moments before she releases Oriphi and takes a moment to fix some of the waves of the tiefling's hair that she might have dislodged in movement.]

Now, I believe I have had about as much as I can withstand of your sentimental coddling. I hope you had something more to pry me for than simply attempting to get to the root of my feelings, Oriphi.

[ Ori is absolutely willing to keep going back and forth with Beatrix on this. She can be soft or delicate and still be a strong, formidable warrior. She doesn’t have to be one or the other all the time…

But, she also doesn’t want to push past Beatrix’s boundaries more than she already has. She’s happy concede on this for the time being, though perhaps she’ll slip it back into a conversation another time. She straightens her posture as they pull away from each other, lowering their joined hands back down between them before letting go. ]

Suit yourself. There is something else I’ve been wondering about, actually.

[ She looks down as she moves her hands back onto her lap, staring at her palms. ]

I’ve been thinking… That I would like to become a better fighter. I know my spells. And I know that I can cast them well. But when it comes to fighting head-on, all I can really rely on is my staff, or turning into a stronger animal…

[Beatrix can breathe easier. Just a touch, anyway, it seems, when Oriphi has the mercy to relent. She probably won't be able to make that happen a second time, though.

As Oriphi continues, she straightens up her posture and leaves her hands atop her lap. In light of what's happened, it's very understandable that she might want to pick up some additional skills. It's very likely that she's not the only one who feels that way. Even all together they weren't capable of breaking through to the real Eustace, after all.]

Have you said anything to Diluc about this? I can only imagine he would either offer to assist or request that you do no such thing. You are quite capable as you are, but I could understand having concern over your well being should you do anything too dangerous.

[ Her gaze turns upwards in contemplation, recalling exactly that which Beatrix has asked about. At length, she hums affirmatively. ]

Mm, I have. We’ve talked about it. He agreed that I should train more, though… I mean, surely you’ve seen him fighting using his claymore, right?

[ She knows that her beloved is just as proficient in just about any other type of martial weaponry that would have been available to him. But when it comes down to it… hers and his strengths lie in entirely different things. ]

He’ll teach me, but I thought you might make a great teacher, too. You don’t have to accept, of course, but… I thought I’d ask.

I have seen it, yes. When I first arrived, he used it.

[A massive and impressive sword that he wielded with a great amount of ease. It is a difficult thing to imagine Oriphi using something similar. But the same could be said of Save the Queen. Beatrix may be a tall woman, though perhaps more slender than expected to wield such weight. Training, she supposes. All things are possible with adequate training, time, and patience.

As the tiefling continues, she wears the hint of a frown. It’s a… a strange thing to have someone want her mentorship. She’s not sure she can provide that in light of the things that have happened. Maybe she’ll feel differently in a month. In a few weeks. In days? She has no way of knowing. She’s not sure she would trust herself in such a role.]

Hm…

[She says nothing for several long moments and settles back against the bench thoughtfully.]

You understand that my skills have been used for horrid things, Oriphi. Not necessarily things of good. And you have also seen that my skills cannot stand against the Noctaere. I think you may… think higher of me than you ought to.

[ Ori knows that she’s nowhere near as strong as Beatrix and Diluc. She can’t hope to be even half the swordsmen that they both are. But perhaps they can show her how to better wield one - a smaller, lighter one - so that if, spirits forbid, she ever finds herself in a situation where she cannot rely on her magic, she doesn’t have to rely entirely on her staff.

She waits for Beatrix’s response on baited breath, a long pause which she fills by idly plucking a rose from the nearest shrub and pulling at its petals one by one in her lap. At her friend’s words, she glances over with a wry smile. ]

I do understand, and I don’t think I think of you too highly.

It’s not quite the same for me, but I’ve used my own skills for some questionable things, too. I think a lot of us here have. [ She knows Diluc has. ] But that doesn’t mean you can’t begin to use them for better things. You did that when you fought Eustace. I know it feels like it wasn’t enough, but where would we all be right now, if you hadn’t been there to protect Tifa and the others?

There’s good in you, Beatrix. If I only saw the past in each person… Well, I wouldn’t have any friends, honestly. What you did was horrible. But… What’s why you have to work harder to make sure no one has to bear the same guilt that you have to. We’ve all got to do better.

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