(1) "You've gotten better." When she heard the words, from Fang no less, her whole expression brightened, and she felt her heart swell beneath her chest. The fighting never came as easily as it did to her as it did to Fang.
"It was nothing," Vanille said, letting her own words come easily, never forcing them. It made them more believable.
With the compliment it was easier to justify the training. The times she would fall over he feet, force herself back up, and try again. Over, and over again until the breath in her lungs would ache, and every step back to Oerba caused a little her legs to feel like jelly.
"Right? Just like that! Easy."
(2) It was something Vanille had never forgotten. A dream of someone she had never seen before.
Usually her dreams were shared with Fang. There were times that they were side by side, and times they had to search through exotic, vibrantly colored landscapes or gray-washed cities to find each other. Sometimes she was aware she was dreaming, other times it was like those quiet moments back home, and the dream passed as real life was just a memory.
But she was here alone, heart beating furiously in her chest.
She was here with another woman. Around them was an Oerba of ruin, the stranger clad in foreign clothes pulled tight with straps and buckles, a pale colored hair resting in a curl over her shoulder. The sense of foreboding within her clutched her heart and drew every breath from her lungs.
Behind this woman, hovering over the ocean, a storm was coming.
(3) "We'll see Pulse together!" she said, surprised at her own words. Someone had once told her that she let people in far too quickly, so she kept her voice low, as if that would somehow make it less obvious. Or maybe it was to keep her own spirit from dragging.
The boy wasn't paying attention, but the first thing Vanille thought was that he looked like his mother. There were delicate features in his face, the curve of his eyes, downcast at the trembling train floor and a shape that was the same as the woman beside him. He didn't speak, and even his mother's gentle hand drawing across his shoulder didn't seem to faze him.
She smiled at her, and suddenly the words just leave Vanille's lips. "I'm sorry," She said, suddenly.
4.
"It was nothing," Vanille said, letting her own words come easily, never forcing them. It made them more believable.
With the compliment it was easier to justify the training. The times she would fall over he feet, force herself back up, and try again. Over, and over again until the breath in her lungs would ache, and every step back to Oerba caused a little her legs to feel like jelly.
"Right? Just like that! Easy."
(2) It was something Vanille had never forgotten. A dream of someone she had never seen before.
Usually her dreams were shared with Fang. There were times that they were side by side, and times they had to search through exotic, vibrantly colored landscapes or gray-washed cities to find each other. Sometimes she was aware she was dreaming, other times it was like those quiet moments back home, and the dream passed as real life was just a memory.
But she was here alone, heart beating furiously in her chest.
She was here with another woman. Around them was an Oerba of ruin, the stranger clad in foreign clothes pulled tight with straps and buckles, a pale colored hair resting in a curl over her shoulder. The sense of foreboding within her clutched her heart and drew every breath from her lungs.
Behind this woman, hovering over the ocean, a storm was coming.
(3) "We'll see Pulse together!" she said, surprised at her own words. Someone had once told her that she let people in far too quickly, so she kept her voice low, as if that would somehow make it less obvious. Or maybe it was to keep her own spirit from dragging.
The boy wasn't paying attention, but the first thing Vanille thought was that he looked like his mother. There were delicate features in his face, the curve of his eyes, downcast at the trembling train floor and a shape that was the same as the woman beside him. He didn't speak, and even his mother's gentle hand drawing across his shoulder didn't seem to faze him.
She smiled at her, and suddenly the words just leave Vanille's lips. "I'm sorry," She said, suddenly.
"I'm so sorry."