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umbry-fic · 3 years

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On the Matter of Ears

Summary: Colette didn't always grow her hair out this long.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia, Tales of Crestoria Characters: Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel, Lutesse, Genis Sage, Arche Klein Relationships: Colette Brunel/Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel & Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel & Lutesse Rating: T Word Count: 2756 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 26/06/2021

Notes+Warnings: Spoilers for the entirety of Lloyd's side story in Crestoria! Don't read this if you don't want to be spoiled!!

This goes into expanding some of the concepts the side story introduces and their possible implications.

~~~

"You need to start hiding these ears, Chosen," Lutesse said, tugging hard at the pointed ends of Colette's ears. It hurt, but Colette did not pull away, for she knew from experience that that would only warrant further punishment. Besides, it's not as if she wasn't used to it. "Maybe consider growing your hair out?" the elf suggested, rubbing at the ends of the golden hair that fell to the middle of Colette's neck, tucked behind her ears.

"But none of the other elves in the village have to hide their ears..."

The protest fell from her lips before Colette could stop it. She clapped her hands over her mouth, expecting a tirade of stabbing words to spill out of the chief's mouth.

Thankfully, it appeared Lutesse was in a gracious mood today, for she didn’t raise her voice into a thunderous scream as she usually did whenever Colette showed signs of impertinence. She only continued calmly speaking.

"All the elves who leave this village, no matter for what purpose, have to cover their ears. Your case is no different. Hiding them will help you escape the detection of any humans you come across on your journey, such that you may succeed in bringing glory to us instead of being hindered by those idiotic buffoons."

Absent from Lutesse’s face was the kind smile she presented in public. Instead, there was a small frown on her face and a furrow in her brow, a familiar expression that struck fear into Colette’s heart, for it heralded much worse. “And you’re not an elf, Chosen, even if you look like one.” Lutesse’s voice dropped into a dangerous snarl as she broke her regal posture to lean closer to Colette. Colette froze, heart stuttering in her chest as she resisted her urge to back away. “Pray do remember that you were given the honour of resembling our perfect forms, but that you’re nowhere close to it. You’re not even a half-elf,” Lutesse spat, venom dripping from the last word like it was a curse. “Understood?”

"Y - yes, Chief Lutesse… Crystal clear..." Colette whispered in reply, bowing her head and hoping that would be enough to appease Lutesse.

"And are you not tired of Lloyd pulling at your ears? Covering them will most likely solve that."

"I think that'd just invite Lloyd to pull my hair instead." Colette smiled weakly, heart swelling in envy at the faint tinge of fondness she could hear in Lutesse’s voice when she brought up Lloyd. There was no trace of that whenever Lutesse looked at her. There was nothing but cold detachment, one that translated into the way Lutesse touched her, like she was handling an object instead of a living, breathing person with dreams and desires. For a tool that was only useful for a singular purpose did not deserve love, only to be beaten back into shape with no care as to whether it would shatter, for any break could be mended.

"No matter. Start growing your hair out, Chosen. I expect to see it at your shoulders by the end of the year."

Lutesse walked out the doorway, ending the conversation with the unspoken "or else" choking the room.

Colette remained in the middle of the room, staring down at her shaking hands as tears rolled down her face. She was safe to cry, now that no one was here to witness it.

Moulded in the shape of an elf, but yet not one, forever lesser than one… Then what was she? Who was she?

~~~

When Lloyd finally awakened after his horrifying fall from the cliff, he never commented on her ears again. He used to tease her about their shape, sneak up from behind and pull on them until she flinched away. Even though the elves who trained her recommended that she stay away from him to prevent the bullying, she couldn't help but ignore that advice.

For there seemed to be so much pain in those russet eyes, even as he teased her relentlessly. She’d even caught Lloyd sneaking out at night multiple times to do nothing but lie atop the grassy hill and stare up at the skies, tears leaking out from the corners of his eyes. Longing for something that had been lost, perhaps his parents? She could empathise with that, the desire to be loved, to have a family.

There had to be more to Lloyd that he was hiding for some reason she couldn't glean, and she wanted to help soothe that pain she could see, in whatever way she could.

She didn't even mind the bullying all that much. It paled in comparison to the worst that Lutesse had put her through. And even if Lloyd treated her meanly, he was the only one of the children who dared to approach her, the rest shying away from the Chosen. It certainly wasn't normal, but it was the closest she was going to get to it.

And it was her fault that he’d gone over the cliff in the first place.

But when he awoke, those russet eyes snapping open to meet her worried, tear-filled blue ones, he'd forgotten everything. The way he'd treated her before, the shape of her ears that were now covered by the hair that reached her shoulders, her name, all of it. It became a fresh start, their new first meeting, and yet it felt like she was finally meeting the boy hidden away behind the front, the true Lloyd.

And what an incredible person that was. Lloyd treated her as if she was just like him. A child, a friend, a person. Maybe he didn't even realise that she wasn't human like him. Perhaps the fact that he was the only human in this village had slipped his mind, despite Lutesse stating it at least once a week, for that was just like Lloyd. Or perhaps he simply didn't care. She didn't need to know, for all she did know was that it made her heart soar. His presence made her feel so comforted, let her know that someone appreciated her for just being her. Helped her forget that… she wasn’t a person at all. And that was all that mattered.

Watching the way his eyes shined in wonder and a smile broke on his face as she revealed her wings before the Great Pasca Tree filled her with joy - that she could elicit happiness in the boy that had been the first to treat her as a person, the boy that she had fallen in love with.

But it would all have to end someday, right? What would happen once she fulfilled her purpose? Without mana, Lloyd would…

She didn't want that! Lloyd was a human, and Genis was a half-elf, but they were both so precious to her. Even Raine! They were all good people! And surely there was good to be found, even in those who lived outside the village. One just needed to look for it, to work for it!

But arguing with Lutesse proved futile, ending only with a stinging cheek and pooling tears, the line she always ended the argument with remaining in Colette's mind, like a poison that couldn't be purged.

"This was the sole purpose you were born for, Chosen. Without it, you are nothing. Worthless. Do you think your oh-so-precious friends would spare you a second glance if you weren't the Chosen? How about if we made another one of you? Would they even realise you’d been replaced? Or would they just continue on their merry day as if nothing has changed?"

Colette wanted to believe that Lutesse was wrong - that her friends would notice that something was up immediately, that they would know that she had disappeared. But the same doubts continued to plague her.

What made her… her, other than the fact that she’d been created by the elves?

Nothing...

It didn’t matter. If she chose to fulfil her purpose, or abandon it. Once she was no longer useful… Then it would be time for her to be thrown away, as any defective tool would be.

~~~

The outside world proved to be more magical than Colette could have thought possible, once she was finally allowed to step foot outside on the guise of the journey to tune the Great Trees. A journey that exposed her to so much and one that she wished could go on forever.

The flora and the fauna... All the people, the towns, the culture... It was all so colourful and exciting. Sure, it wasn't perfect - Arche shouldn't have been treated the way she was, and sometimes people could be petty and hurt each other, stabbing daggers into each other’s backs. But it was a work in progress, just like everything was. Much like the Elven Village had many areas that it could improve in, despite Lutesse and the other Elders harping on about its perfection. The world was imperfect, and that was made it beautiful and worth protecting.

Her desire to go against her assigned purpose was only further cemented, as she decided that she would do the same at the other trees as she had at the first. She would not go against the wishes of the trees themselves - to see this world continue to grow - for forcing the trees to destroy the people they loved seemed like the cruellest form of torture, one she did not want to wish on anyone. She would not let the selfish desires of others drive her, would not let herself become a vessel for the elves to carry out their egotistical destruction. She would not create a world where her friends, where Lloyd, was not allowed to live.

But she wondered how the people in the towns would treat her if they could see her ears, the physical characteristic that marked her as one of the elve's creations and the one thing she couldn't run away from. They treated her like a human right now, but her ears continued to burn under her hair. She knew she was just doing the same thing as Genis, but it still felt like she was lying about who she was - just another lie to add to the mountains that had left her mouth. The knowledge that she could never be normal, that she would never be able to fit in anywhere, writhed in her mind.

She supposed it didn’t matter. The path she had chosen to take would one day catch up with her. Lutesse would not let her off scot-free. Perhaps there was nothing she could do to stop Lutesse from replacing her with just another Chosen, but she would achieve all she could now.

Even if she was to be derided as a failure, even if she was to be abandoned and forgotten, even if she was to be punished for her transgressions and doomed to fade away into nothing more than dust…

She would work towards a world where her friends could smile. That was enough.

~~~

When Colette awakened in the middle of the volcano, with lava roaring around her and Lutesse’s contemptuous gaze trained on her, all she’s focussed on is Lloyd’s voice. The voice that she had grasped onto in the darkness, the rope that was extended to her and that had pulled her out.

She leapt into his arms without a second thought, hanging onto his words and the hope it gave her, the light that burned away the guilt that flooded her.

His hands ran through her hair as he continued to whisper in her ear that he wanted to stay with her, and do his utmost to grant her wish.

It was only when she walked out into daylight and fresh air again that the realisation hit her, with Lloyd’s hand gripped tightly in hers and her friends smiling faces surrounding her.

She was free, free to release herself from the title of Chosen. But… to do what, and to be who?

~~~

"I don't like my ears much," Colette whispered, removing the comb from her hair and setting it down on the nightstand, raising a hand to play at the locks that fell to the middle of her back, her right ear poking out of the golden veil. She didn't know what prompted her to speak up in the silence of the inn room, to finally blurt out a secret that had been securely locked in her heart for more than a decade. Only that she knew it was safe to say whatever it is she wanted, for the only one here to hear her was Lloyd, and she believed that he would always protect her.

"Really?" Lloyd replied, coming up behind her and running a finger over the shell of her ear, making her shudder from the sensation. He's so incredibly gentle, so different from all the other times Lutesse had forcefully tugged at her ears to punish her. She shouldn't need to recall those memories anymore, but she was helpless against them crawling back into the forefront of her mind. "I think they're beautiful."

"Thank you." Colette couldn't help the flush that filled her cheeks from the compliment Lloyd had paid her. "But... it marks me as Chosen, doesn’t it? It means I'm not human. I'm not an elf or a half-elf either. So... What am I? Where do I belong? What purpose do I have?"

Even now that she was free to journey together with her friends for however long she wanted, she was still plagued with the same fetters that dragged her down, screaming questions into a void that did nothing but echo her voice back at her.

"Hm..." Lloyd wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. A comforting presence, one that chased away all her nightmares. "You're just you - Colette. And that’s special. I promised to make a world where everyone can be happy and free. That includes you, and I promise I will keep going until you learn to smile freely. No one gets to answer those questions but you. And if you don't have the answers right now, then we can find it together. We have all the time in the world."

"Thank you..."

His hand came up, wiping away the tears that he somehow knew would spill over, as she placed her hand over his, interlocking their fingers. She let her eyes flutter shut in the comforting silence, knowing that she might already had her answer, even if she didn't have the courage to speak it yet.

That the place she belonged was right here, by Lloyd's side, fighting for his beautiful dream that she also believed in.

~~~

Maybe it's not that much of a surprise that the first place Lloyd kissed her was on the tip of her ears. It was just like him, to shower her with love, especially the part of her that she despised. In hopes that, maybe, she could one day accept herself.

It becomes his favourite place to kiss, over and over again, each time causing her to drop whatever she was holding, blushing. Always so tender. Ticklish, but filling her heart with a warm joy, and instilling her with the confidence to keep going.

~~~

Snip. Snip.

Colette watched the golden locks fall to the floor, calmly placing the scissors on wood.

There. Done.

Her beaming face was reflected in the mirror, her hair now a satisfying length that ended at her chin.

"Colette! Are you ready?" Lloyd's voice came through the thick wooden door, muffled and accompanied by knocking.

"Yep!" Colette replied, skipping over to the door and pulling it open.

"Oh! Oh, wow..."

Lloyd appeared dumbstruck as he stared at her new haircut, bringing up a hand to stroke the ears that were now exposed. Colette leaned into his touch, giggling.

"I was tired of hiding. So... How do I look?"

"You look incredible," Lloyd whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead as he took her hand in his. "Absolutely incredible.

"Shall we go, then?" she prompted, squeezing his hand. “I’m sure Genis and Arche are waiting.”

"We should. Before Genis starts making us do all the chores again for being late..."

The two of them walked down the corridor, laughing at what the other said, prepared to face another day.

~~~

Thank you, Lloyd. For always treating me as a person, one that loved and could be loved.

Thank you, for giving me the courage to just be me, and to find my own place in this world.

#tales of symphonia #tales of crestoria #colloyd #lloyd irving #colette brunel #genis sage #arche klein #lloyd side story #lutesse #fanfiction #one shot

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umbry2000 · 3 years

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Today, I listened to The Third Heart too much and had a lot of thoughts on elf mom from Crestoria.

Spoilers for Lloyd's side story in Crestoria, so the rest of this post is going under the cut.

This is basically a whole bunch of headcanons (piling onto the stuff I already wrote in my Pasca fic :P) and also trying to fill in the gaps. I'm going off the top of my head with minimal editing, so this will probably be a mess where I repeat myself multiple times lol. I do intend to one day return to the Crestoria stuff and write a fic centred only on Lutesse, possibly her relationship with Lloyd. It's so interesting! But it's unlikely to be in the near-future so I thought I'd just throw this on here. This very weird mixture of theories and stuff I'd probably copy-paste directly into fics HAHAH. Warning that the tense is super inconsistent and I'm too lazy to fix it, plus there might be spelling errors.

~~~

So for some reason my brain decided today was a good day to ponder two questions. How did the elves come to think of themselves as "the superior race", and what was Lutesse's past like?

To answer that first question, I personally like to think that the elves were originally just peace-loving people. I absolutely love the trope where good intentions just lead to the worst outcomes, so for me, the elves were simply trying to stop humans from waging their endless wars, both within themselves and with half-elves, hating the fighting and the danger it was posing to the world's mana. But the frustration from the futility of their actions, of having to watch the carnage continuously unfold, and from watching the world deteriorate eventually warped the feelings of a few into hatred. And hatred spreads the easiest, especially in a time of hopelessness, and so eventually all the elves came to hate the other two races, to arrogantly proclaim themselves as better. But in doing so and fighting to claim the mana for themselves, they had become no better than those they derided.

As! For! Lutesse! This is intense headcanon territory :p I think she was born back when the fighting for mana was already in full-force. (Elves do live a rather long time, after all.) She was the daughter of the chief at that time, but she had an older brother (who I won't really expand on, he ain't that important), so she wasn't the candidate to become the next chief. All children are taught to hate the other two races from birth, though Lutesse, like most of the others, didn't really understand the concept of hatred. They knew the humans and half-elves were supposed to be hated, and why, but they couldn't really muster that intense of an emotion, not while they were still pure-hearted, innocent children, who hadn't even laid eyes on a human or a half-elf.

But most of the children just take the hatred of the other two races as fact and continue on with their lives. Lutesse did the same, playing with her friends under Pasca's shade and yearning for the little moments she got to spend with her father, who was a very busy man. A strict one, too, but in the tiny pockets of time she managed to spend with her father, he was always gentle with her. Reading her stories, ruffling her hair. She loved him, admired him, and looked up to him, the great Chief of the village. She absorbed his every word, about all the fighting, about how the elves were doing the right thing, for they were the ones worthy of the mana, and she believed every single one, for what child wouldn't see their beloved father's words as gospel?

Obviously things don't end happily. If you've read my tree fic, you know all the mana trees cut themselves off for the world. There is a period of loss, where no one knows what has happened or what to do. Eventually the fighting dies down, for there was nothing to fight for, anymore. Only more hatred to go around, as everyone blamed the other for the disappearance of the trees. The elves manage to hide their village away, vehemently blaming the "lower beings" for corrupting the mana so much that the trees had to hide. Not without losses, however, since Lutesse basically loses her whole family overnight.

So now there's a vacancy for Chief. And the village wouldn't force Lutesse to do it, but she thought she had to. That she owed her father and her brother this much. And so she throws herself into her training, trying to drown out the tears that won't go away, because she's not supposed to be weak. The leader of her people wasn't supposed to be weak. Her father had not been weak.

She couldn't allow herself to be weak.

And in that whirlwind of a few years that passed, she thinks she can understand that hatred that all the adults speak of - a hollow in her chest, filled with nothing but brief stabs of pain that she thought would make her world end. Perhaps that was hatred?

It's not, she's really just grieving. But a child forced to grow up so quickly didn't know how to sort through that, to differentiate between the dull ache of grief and the burning inferno that was hatred. All Lutesse had was that grief, so she clung to it endlessly, convincing herself that she did hate the other two races, as years and years and years passed, sharpening that grief into a weapon that she could readily wield, easily able to summon rage. She doesn't hate them, not really... Her feelings towards them had never gone further than anger. And she still is. Always angry, for that sobbing little girl. An anger that had nowhere to go.

So now I get to the concept of the three faces, and about The Third Heart. (I've been on a Harumaki Gohan binge lately, haha...) My most favourite theory about The Third Heart is that it isn't about two friends, but rather a girl, her second heart, and the third heart she has pushed away.

So there's the first face, the one you show to strangers, the second face, the one you show to loved ones, and the third face, the one you show only to yourself.

Lutesse's first face is that of a kind, but stern, woman. An excellent leader, who always puts the good of her people first, but still cares immensely, extending a helping hand when needed.

Her first heart, however, is cold and empty, for none of her subordinates, or even any of the Elders, throughly know her. She doesn't allow herself to get close to any of them. They don't know the depths of her emotions, for surely that could be construed as weakness, and she could not be weak. No tears would leave her eyes. She had to present a perfect front at all times, no matter how exhausted her soul became.

For a long time, she doesn't have a second heart, for there is no one she is close to, and her third heart is wrapped in chains and locked away.

To Genis and Raine, who take care of each other, she presents the front of the caring but distant leader, for it is so easy to just fall into "hating" them, as always, when she can keep them at arm's length. To not think about it at all.

Colette was born to be a tool, and that is what Lutesse will firmly continue to think. Even if sometimes, she can't help but flinch slightly at the hurt expressions on the girl's face, reminding her of another girl that had been left behind many centuries ago. But it's so easy to just let the convenient excuse of hatred, of being above, wash everything away.

But then there is Lloyd. Who is in her care. Even if her original intention was to use him to manipulate Colette, to show her just how ugly humanity is, he's still in her home. She's the only one willing to take care of him, and she has to, if she wants to put her plan in place. But that means a distance that is impossible to widen, for she had to convince Lloyd she cared.

And she finds Lloyd isn't quite as repulsive as she'd expected him to be. In fact, he is painfully good. Pure of heart, always holding faith in everyone. And he doesn't lose those qualities as he matures, somehow. But she denies caring for him as anything more than a chess piece in this intricate game she plays, because she is not meant to care for humans. That would be going against everything she was taught, and it would be betraying... everything. She feels like she made her father a promise when she became Chief, even though she doesn't even know what that promise is, herself. Just knows that she's teetering on the precipice, and that she has to pull herself back.

She feels herself slip, however, sometimes ruffling his hair, just like her father used to, in old, faded memories. She would stop immediately after, putting the necessary distance between them again, but the grin Lloyd gives her (which eventually becomes exasperated groans as he gets older) is hard to resist.

Slowly, but surely, he becomes her second heart. And the third heart can finally be freed from its eternal prison.

That neglected third heart was the little girl that was laid to rest with her father all those years ago. The one who always clamoured for her father's love, could run freely under Pasca's branches, share a popsicle with her friends and have melted ice cream drip on her dress without having to care how she looked.

The little girl who left her teddy bear by her father's grave and walked away without looking back.

When she's alone, in the silence, she would simply exhale, pausing. She hadn't done it in a long time, stopping, because she couldn't allow herself to stop. When she did, everything would press down on her.

The brief flares of guilt she feels every time she strikes Colette, her exhaustion from playing pretend all the time, from trying to shoulder everything, that she cannot show anyone. The doubt, that surrounds everything, every word that had been told to her, and that she had parroted back, again and again.

She can't let herself waver for too long. She knows she's in far too deep. She can't stop here - it's far too late for any of them to stop. Dancing along to the same narrative, one that everyone may not even believe in. But it was far more convenient to fall in line with a centuries-old tale. Hatred and derision were so, so easy.

And to stop would mean questioning what she had done, all that she had done in the name of her mission to secure the mana for the elves, to question if she had ever believed anything she'd said once she'd seen the world with her own eyes. It would mean questioning what her father had done, the words she had once listened to raptly. And starry-eyed admiration was the last thing that had not been wrenched from the little girl's claw-like grip, and she could not bear to give that up.

Even though she was so, so tired, that familiar dull ache returning, it was too late to stop.

She would simply get up, shove her third heart back down again, forget everything, and put on her familiar first face, spitting vitriol towards humans and half-elves with conviction. All she needed to do was draw on that reliable anger, in order to keep her promise...

Whatever it was.

~~~

Why did this kinda turn into a fic halfway through lol. I came up with this... midway through writing notes because clearly my brain does not know how to focus.

I think it's super interesting if Lutesse is actually somewhat similar to Colette! I'd like to think that Lutesse is secretly a little jealous of Colette, for somehow getting to have somewhat of a normal childhood (it's not great, but it was something!), though she doesn't admit this emotion to herself.

I'm not excusing anything Lutesse did. Or any of the elves. They all did some terrible, horrible things, which depending on who you ask might not be forgiveable. I'm just always interested in backstories and the other persepctive! They told us, like, next to nothing. And if you do that I'm gonna start filling it in myself. Do the majority of elves truly hate humans and half-elves, or is it just convenient to say they do and act like they do, and gain gratitude from that? Do they even know there's another possibility? Like, they seem to hate the idea of humans and half-elves, but surely that idea would be greatly dispelled if they just met with them. The elves likely haven't been, though, so I guess the message of hate just keeps being passed around.

Hehe hope you enjoyed reading this huge chunk of text :) I've been greatly enjoying just typing out my largely unfiltered thoughts on here :>

#tales of crestoria #lloyd side story #lutesse #thoughts on elf mom #:P #umbry says stuff

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darkhymns-fic · 3 years

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saints

On the night of Lloyd’s fall, everything changes.

Or maybe, it just all shifted to where it should have been to begin with.

[Based off Lloyd's Side Story]

Fandom: Tales of Crestoria/Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel, Lutesse, Raine Sage, Genis Sage Rating: G Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: I loved the potential of this side story (even if it's messy) and might write more for it, but for now this is what I was able to get out with my first impressions of it.

He woke up to the sound of crying.

Opening his eyes was a struggle, the throbbing in his head so persistent, like someone forever knocking on a locked door. At first, he wanted to keep them closed, hoping the darkness would help somewhat. But it still came to him in even rhythms, still knocked and knocked, until finally Lloyd had to let the light inside.

The house he was in… he didn’t recognize. The ceiling covered in crossing wooden beams, the oak finely polished to a near shine. Yet still, the knocking wouldn't cease. If only he could stop thinking…

Near the ceiling were the tips of bookcases, and of course, they were filled with books, their bindings ranging from pristine to frayed. Sometimes there were figurines on the shelves, of tiny animals mostly, seeming to have been designed by a careful hand.

They weren’t important.

Instead he looked to his left, to a girl that was seated at his bedside – and only then did he realize he was lying in a bed, the covers tucked up to his chin. Something was also wrapped around his forehead, though he could barely see what.

She saw he was awake, blinking the tears from her eyes. “Lloyd?” she called, moving closer. Oh. It was her hand on his head, so soft. He could feel the gentle pressure of her fingers, how they helped make the throbbing lessen, even if just for a little bit. “Does it hurt? Are you okay?”

Maybe just then, he was still too hurt to say anything. Or maybe he did, and he’d forgotten.

But he remembered looking at her, watching her cry, and thinking, I’m sorry.

He didn’t know why he thought that, but still, he knew he was the reason for her tears. He must have fallen asleep right after, lulled by the warmth of her hand. Never had he known what it was like to be safe like this.

That had been Lloyd’s very first memory.

When Lutesse had been told of Lloyd’s fall, she hadn’t moved from her study. Not right away, at least.

“Is the wound serious?” she had asked of the messenger, eyes still focused on her work – a great tome that she penned into, words carefully scribed, leaving no blots of ink in their travel. Raine had always admired the woman for her studiousness, her dedication to her people, to keeping their isolated village intact, and for accepting both her and her little brother in.

Still, she had thought the elven matriarch would have raised her head up at the news.

“It very well may be,” she said, hand clutching at her staff. She remembered how light Lloyd had felt when she carried him, how different his face looked from before… “His fall was a long one, but he must have grabbed onto the cliff side at one point. It looks like he’s suffered from a concussion. I have him at my home currently, if that is alright.”

Lutesse continued to write in her book, her robes barely making a wrinkle as she sat at her chair.

“I’ve given him as much healing as I can,” Raine continued.

Lutesse finally placed down her pen on the desk, turned her gaze to the half-elf. “Then all there is left is time. I trust your talents, such as when the Chosen had been injured.” The praise she would give her was always wonderful, yet right now, it was hard to appreciate, remembering the shaking of a small boy in her arms, how the blood fell from the gash on his head… It had been harder than usual to close it up with First Aid…

“Speaking of the Chosen, I have not seen her today.” There was no question being asked, yet Raine heard it in her tone.

“She is also at my home, with Lloyd.” Another grip on her staff. “She feels…responsible for his fall.”

Lutesse raised an eyebrow. “Ah, now it all makes sense. Perhaps this is karmic retribution for what he has done to the Chosen.”

Raine held back any expression from her face. She had…said something similar when Genis and Colette had called to her. Of the gods and their ways of punishment. Only now did she taste the bitterness of it. “Perhaps,” she repeated, yet could not resist adding, “But he is only a child still.”

“And our ways during childhood shapes us. Maybe even more so for humans.”

Then why…? Raine was quick enough to hold her tongue. “Yes, of course.”

She half-expected orders from Lutesse to bring Lloyd to her home, or to a healing place within the village. She fully expected her to order the Chosen to return to her home for certain.

But instead Lutesse simply nodded and went back to her work in runic transcription. “Thank you for all that you have done for this village, Raine.”

Followed by the thoughtful scratching of pen against paper, the gentle creak of the oak chair she sat on.

Seeing that as her cue to leave, Raine bowed, then headed out the door. At least, this would be the first time her and Genis would have company staying over for the night…

Colette had always been told that she was meant for much more, that she had been created in their image, her power so great that it could even rival that of a god’s, for only the elves could make something so divine.

Yet, try as she much, she couldn’t remember her very first day of being alive. Wouldn’t a god-like creation recall something so simple?

It had never been made a secret to Colette just what she was. It was clear to her when she went to the Great Pasca Tree as a child, hearing its whispers in the rustling of its leaves. No elf or human could read the mana as well underneath their senses, not like she could. It was in the way everyone surrounded her, a respectful distance away, wherever she went, and always following Chief Lutesse.

It was the respect one gave to a holy structure, to a sacred altar – not to a living, breathing person. But then again, she was not a person. Once, long ago, she did not mind. She couldn’t mind at all. A Chosen like her did not need feelings.

Though she could not remember her first day of living, she could remember something else – of when she had first lied.

As she stood before the Tree, the warm bark underneath her hand, Lutesse had asked her, “Do you hear its lament?” The elven woman was regal in her bearing, but her eyes holding so much less. Colette could feel it, like ice pricking her skin. “Do you hear its cries, Chosen?”

She did not tell Lutesse about how the Great Pasca Tree was enjoying the sunshine, how it thought Colette’s hand tickled at its trunk. She did not speak of how the Tree could feel the skitters of squirrels over its boughs, and only hoped that the birds making their nests on it could do so with a bit more gentleness.

So instead, she nodded to Lutesse, and said, “Yes, of course.” She knew, somehow, that was the only acceptable answer.

But hearing the thoughts of trees on the wind was not useful to her now, not their musings of the world at large, or their eagerness of the storm they could feel brewing in the currents, giving them much coveted rain.

The Great Tree could not tell her if Lloyd would be alright.

“Colette, you’re still here?” Genis had asked of her, staying a few feet away from the bed that Lloyd laid in. It happened to be Genis’, one that Raine had said would be better for his size. The boy had been huffy on that but didn’t voice any obvious complaints. “Sis said she would take care of him.”

Colette, seated in a small chair that Raine provided, said nothing, just squeezing Lloyd’s very still hand. “I want to make sure that… he’s…”

“But… but he tried to kill you!” Genis shouted suddenly. She could hear the strangled gasp in his throat. “I…I mean…”

No, because that was true, wasn’t it? Until she had tripped instead.

“Sorry… I can go and make us some food and just…” Genis said little else. He couldn’t, and so walked away, leaving the room quietly, until his footsteps were followed by the soft clicking of the door.

Colette wondered what was wrong with her.

She gripped Lloyd’s hand so tightly, her thoughts feeling so fuzzy and weak. What could she have said to Genis? How could she tell him what she saw as Lloyd fell? It was my fault. If only I wasn’t clumsy…

And did it even make sense for a divine creation to do something so simple as tripping over a root, to barely miss the hands that just brushed her shoulders before falling over the edge? No, it could only mean that she had done so on purpose. That she had wanted to make Lloyd fall after all that he had done to her; pulling at her hair, calling her names… getting closer to her than anyone ever had.

The fear she saw in his eyes as he fell changed her then. And suddenly, she was crying for the very first time. It was strangely so very relieving.

She kept crying, even as she saw his eyes open for a brief moment, saw the way he looked at her then before he fell right back to sleep.

How the glaze in them, along with that fear, was gone.

When Lloyd had been found, he had been curled up underneath the Great Pasca Tree, his shirt frayed, his brown hair dirty with mud and twigs.

Humans were not allowed near the Village of Keepers, but Lutesse had halted the guard’s swords, drawn to silence the yelling of a child who looked to be no older than eight years, who scurried back until his back hit the trunk of the giant Tree. One guard noted he held no vision orb around his neck, which was an oddity all on its own.

It irked her, for a human to taint something so holy and sacred with their presence, but she held herself back as well. As she looked into Lloyd’s eyes, she saw something hollow, something very painful… and so very useful.

“Have him cleaned up and deliver him to my home,” she had instructed, looking down at the boy for just a moment longer before turning away. “Do not harm him.”

She had heard the echoes of protests, saw it in her retinue’s faces before biting it away. Oh, how she understood, but they could not see the possibilities of the future such as she. They could not fathom that even a worthless human could be a key for their own glorious destinies.

In short time, Lloyd was placed within a room, complete with the comforts one needed, but when she went to him, he was merely seated on the floor, knees tugged into his chest. His clothes were clean and well-presented, but his hair was still unruly, making her frown. Whether the blame could be assigned to her people tasked on cleaning him up, or the boy himself, she couldn’t really determine just yet.

She went to retrieve a comb on a nearby dresser, then walked towards him, deftly grabbing him by the arm to lift him to his feet. “On the bed. We will get those tangles out.”

“L-Let go!” the child shouted. But her appearance belied her strength, and so the boy was unable to break free. She pulled him to a seat beside her on the carefully arranged bedsheets, then went to run the comb’s teeth through a forest of russet knots and twists. A whimper left his throat, followed by a glare at her.

“Move your head,” she ordered, one hand on his chin to make him face forward. But she had seen the look in those eyes; more filled with pain than hatred, something that the boy had been taught.

Humans always did breed ugliness in their own kin.

“Your name,” she demanded as she continued to brush, seeing tears pinprick at his eyes as she did so. “You must have one.”

Small hands clenched at his knees, fingers pulling at the fabric of his shorts, but he didn’t try to struggle. He bit his lip, looking pointedly away. “Lloyd.”

She nodded. “Suits you,” she said. Another tug at the brush, but Lloyd tried his best not to whine. “We found no one else nearby. Do you know of where your parents may be?”

Nothing from Lloyd, again just looking forward, letting her continue with her small torture of hair detangling.

Or did they send you here? she questioned, but not aloud. Of course, it all made sense to her that the Order would be involved in this. But the barbaric ways of humans were always so plainly obvious – the latest being about their fascination with exterminating so-called Transgressors. Such self-destructive beings, like a snake eating its very own tail.

“If you can’t remember your parents, or your home, then it seems you have no other place.” She gave a smile, small and barely imperceptible. “You will stay here.”

She saw a conflict within Lloyd’s expression; a mixture of relief, of dread, of pain once more. If her suspicions were correct, this would be the best outcome for him and those who raised him. But also… the ugliness of humanity all residing in this one child. What better way than to show the Chosen what meaning her sacred duty had?

A sword must weather fire and tension before becoming strong. This would be for her own good – if she survived this lesson.

“Then it is settled,” she announced, finished with her brushing. The boy’s hair was still not perfect, for it curled in peculiar waves, but she decided it was for the best. Another sign of the chaotic nature of humans. “The hour is late, so be sure to rest up for tomorrow.”

She made to leave, but then saw his eyes flick to her, for a moment, different once more.

“Why… are you being nice to me?”

Again, that confusion and pain within him. He seemed to struggle to get the words out, as if something held him back, something unnatural. Perhaps there were healing artes that could rectify such a thing… but no, this was to her advantage. Besides, it would be educational to see the effects of whatever Lloyd had been through to see played out before her.

“It is our duty to extend aid to those in need,” she said, intoning an old elven adage, albeit an adage that was only meant for elves. And with that thought, she decided to ask Lloyd a question of her own. “And you know what I am, do you not?”

Lloyd hesitated, hands gripping the mattress beneath him. “An elf.” He paused. “You’re all elves.”

Ah, was the venom in his voice natural? Or another of the vile lessons bestowed on him? It didn’t matter. He would be useful either way.

“We are,” she confirmed for him, brushing back a lock of his brown hair from his forehead, only to have it spring back to the front again. She shrugged. “And you will learn to live with that reality, Lloyd.”

But that was then, barely a year ago. Now, Lloyd was not here. He was staying at Raine’s, sleeping away an injury, with the Chosen by his side.

Lutesse had gone to his room, seeing his unkempt bed (despite how much she had told him to keep it fixed) the wooden swords laying against the bedside, the figure of a woodland bird on his desk, one that he had silently asked Lutesse to purchase from an elven merchant in a rare moment of quietude.

Either way, there was no real loss. They would continue with their plans, teaching the Chosen to manipulate the Trees correctly. She had already seen the worst of what humanity could be, all through the actions of Lloyd. She did not deny for a moment that his fall was an attempt on the Chosen’s life.

If the Chosen had died this night through his actions, it would simply be a hinderance. They would make another creation, this time with steadier feet. And if Lloyd died this night-

If he died… it would not matter.

Still, Lutesse stayed at the doorway to his room, remembering the feel of his hair underneath his fingers. Sometimes, the boy would have nightmares while he slept, and she would simply stay at his side, bidding him to sleep so that she could finally rest herself.

She would only know in the morning what his fate was. It’s karmic retribution, she had thought firmly.

Yet, throughout the night, she could not sleep.

Genis had been the only one besides Colette to have seen Lloyd’s fall.

It was hard to be close to the sullen child, to one who would barely say a word and keep to himself. Genis had heard the other elven children talk about humans, and with the only human he had ever seen acting just as the stories said; bitter and withdrawn, with a rashness to his actions that made him seek out Colette, Genis had thought he had known all there was to Lloyd’s nature.

But he didn’t understand what Colette had seen in him.

The Chosen had always been different herself, always pointedly separated from the other children. Lutesee, who retrieved the girl from her classes for her own lessons, kept that separation intact. But where the Chief would appear, the boy named Lloyd would soon follow.

Lloyd didn’t seem to care about the sacred distance, always crossing over a line and getting too close, reaching for anything of the Chosen to grab or push.

And Colette would never pull away, eyes drawn to him instantly over everything else.

It was at the Great Pasca Tree where he had found them both. Genis had gone searching for the Chosen, an inquiry from his sister as the hour was getting late. Colette almost always hung around the Tree, even after her lessons on the tuning of the Great Trees had been completed for the day. He didn’t talk with her much, half-worried he would be in the way, half-concerned that the human part of him would infect her somehow.

But not only Colette was there. Lloyd was too, standing beneath the tree, craning his head up to see the branches. Colette had been standing right behind him, the wind ruffling her hair, showing off her pointed ears.

Genis could not hear what they were saying to each other, or if they were saying anything at all. The sunlight was in his eyes, colored pink from being so close to the horizon. Colette was moving closer to Lloyd, and when Lloyd turned, the shadows of the leaves above him seemed to cover his face. But Genis remembered how often the boy would hassle Colette, how he’d push her down, or reach for her hair to pull roughly. Sometimes, it would take an elven guard to slap the boy’s hands away.

Colette was too close to him, and in his fear, Genis shouted, “Look out!”

Lutesse had taught them that humans couldn’t be trusted. It didn’t make Lloyd any different, even if she took him in. Even if she…

Colette turned towards him, and suddenly Lloyd shook his head, something painful in his eyes that could now be seen. His hands, as if they were being pulled from him, reached out to Colette to grasp her by her hair once more.

And then Colette slipped out of his grasp and ran. Lloyd followed, and soon Genis followed too, the incantations to fire spells hovering on his tongue. But he was still learning his magic artes and couldn’t remember just how it went…

All three ran down through the forest, past the glades and meadows, until they reached the edges of cliffs, until Genis had to brush away large grass stalks to finally get to them both.

It must have been a miracle from the gods, to have Colette suddenly dodge from Lloyd’s hands, to have him fall from where he had meant to push her into instead. Genis had at least thought so, seeing their work at play just then, as if a hand had pushed Lloyd over instead, while nudging Colette out of the way.

But Colette, the Chosen, didn’t seem to think so. It made Genis question so much more than he was comfortable with at his age.

Once Raine was home, he had seated himself at the kitchen table with her, kicking his feet against the chair legs, pushing away a lump of a mashed potato in his plate with the air quiet around them.

“Don’t play with your food, Genis,” Raine had said, though her tone was light, barely reprimanding at all.

“I made the food…” he argued, just as weakly back. Still, neither wanted to speak on what was unsaid, of the sacred Chosen staying with them, watching over a boy who they knew had jus tried to murder her.

He had seen it. And yet, he felt conflicted. Isn’t this what humans were like?

“Raine,” he said, his voice soft compared to the night wind blowing outside. “Was this supposed to happen?”

His sister took a long time to respond, that at first, he thought she hadn’t heard. But when he raised his head, she had a pensive look on her face, eyes occasionally glancing back towards the door that led to the room where…

“It just happened,” she told him. “We’ve healed him, and now all we can do is wait.” Raine reached out to stroke her brother’s hair, eyes gentle. “Nothing more.”

Genis wasn’t satisfied with the answer, but he would have to accept it. Raine didn’t like it when he went against her too often.

He wondered why the gods could be cruel sometimes.

When Lloyd slept, all he had dreamed of was something so dark. Not like the way the moonlight would shine through his bedroom window, making him feel slightly calm, or the way the shadows of that giant tree near the village would fall over his face when he looked up at it. This was the darkness of a cramped room, the shadows of hands keeping him still, all while his head continued to ache and ache.

And then suddenly, the headache was gone.

Lloyd woke up once more, this time to that darkness that was much more comforting than the other. He could see the moonlight peeking outside through the branches of nearby trees, but noted how much smaller this window was. He blinked again, wondering at this room, at this place with all its unfamiliarity.

He turned, and found Colette next to him, seated on a small chair, head laying on the bed. Her hand was still against his forehead, still so soft and warm. It shifted the linen bandage wrapped around him, its knot tied to the left side.

“Colette?” he whispered, feeling so weak, remembering when she had cried earlier.

She woke up easily, telling him that she must not have fallen deeply into sleep at all. “L-Lloyd?” she stuttered, all while her hand kept steady on him. “Lloyd…”

He wondered just then how he knew her name, how he recognized his own. But, he had to be sure. “You mean…me?”

At that, Colette blinked. Her other hand reached for his blanket, gripping it tight. “Yeah… you’re Lloyd,” she said. In the moonlight, he could see the pointed tips of her ears poking out from her golden hair. It was fascinating, making him wish he could reach out and touch them. “You had an accident, and it was… Don’t you remember?”

Lloyd furrowed his brows, tried to think about it – and was then met with a wave of pain thudding in his head. He winced. “Agh… it hurts…to think…”

Colette (a name he knows, that he keeps) continued to stroke his head, the rhythm of it already brushing away the dull pain he had been feeling. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have…” He saw her struggle once again to speak, swallowing hard. “What about Genis… or Lutesse?” Her eyes were such a wide and bright blue that he didn’t want to look away. “What about them?”

Lloyd thought on those names she said, felt something tug, but then – nothing. He shook his head. “I don’t know...”

Colette bowed her head, looking away. “It’s my fault…”

But there was one thing Lloyd knew for sure, beyond his own name and hers. He didn’t want to make her cry again.

So he sat up, doing his best to push away the heavy blanket off his shoulders and reached for both of her hands. “Hey! Why are you so sad?”

Colette raised her eyes to him, bright with tears about to form again. That gaze flicked from their interlocked hands back to his face. He saw confusion in them, which only heightened his own.

“Because…I messed up,” she admitted softly. “And you don’t remember anything.”

On some level, Lloyd knew she was right. He didn’t remember this house he was in, or the glade that lay outside of the windows. He didn’t know why he was even here at all, sleeping to the warmth of her hand on his head.

“But I remember you,” he said, feeling more confident in that than in anything else. “At least, I think I do. Is that weird?”

Colette looked conflicted, back again to their hands and to his face. She seemed to struggle with something, and it only made Lloyd want to keep reaching out to her

“You live with Lutesse… and I live with the other Keepers.” She pressed her fingers into his palm, carefully, as if this was a new sensation. “If there’s anyone you should remember, it should be her…”

“Why should it be?” he asked, almost bluntly.

Maybe it was too much, because suddenly, the tears she held back fell down her cheeks, dripped onto the backs of their linked hands.

“But it’s my fault! If I made you this way…” A sniffle, all as she tried to blink away her tears. “I didn’t mean to change you.”

Lloyd blinked, understanding – at least slightly. It was that word she used: changed.

But was change that bad?

He looked to their hands again, at the way they fitted against each other, at how tightly hers clung to his. “Maybe I don’t totally get it… but, I just know that I feel happy right now,” he said, and felt a smile on his face. Somehow, he knew that it had been a very long time since he’d done something like this. “Yeah, I feel happy. Isn’t that good enough?”

Or maybe, he was just being really dumb…

Colette stopped her tears, unable to wipe them away as they kept holding hands. But she never let go or try to slip away her fingers from his. So he saw those tears fall within this quiet room, as the wind continued to rustle the trees outside.

“You’re happy because…why?” she asked him.

Lloyd had to think on that answer carefully, because all he knew was that the fuzzy warmth in his chest didn’t leave, that it had started ever since he woke to her stroking his head. “Because you were here for me, weren’t you?” he asked her in turn. He squeezed her hands. “I don’t remember what happened before. Maybe I don’t want to… But whatever I did to make you cry, I promise to never do that again!”

He grinned then, feeling so sure of himself, more freeing than ever before. It was like something had been lifted off him, like a fog that he had never known he was living inside of in the first place.

He knew he had Colette to thank for that. He knew that so deeply in his heart, even if she didn’t believe it herself.

She cried a bit less, and Lloyd would have waited with her so patiently to wait for her to finish – until he felt a sneeze sneak up on him and had to turn his head away to the side. “Ah-choo!”

The sound was so sudden it made Colette gasp, staring at him.

“Er, sorry… Guess I got a cold or something…” Maybe that was why he was in this bed?

And something about what he said made Colette’s lips twitch, made the shine in her eyes sparkle just a little differently. Until she was finally giggling.

“You’re…really silly…”

There was that smile that he wanted, that he hadn’t known he wanted so much until right now.

“If you think a sneeze is funny, maybe you’re the silly one here!”

As he expected, it made her laugh more. Even if most of his memory was a blank, he knew he had never liked a sound so much before.

She’s such a dork, he thought, rubbing his thumbs against her hands.

Another gust of wind made him remember that it was still nighttime, that the hour was probably very late. He did have some questions on what exactly happened, on where he was, but he was also very sleepy and slightly cold. Maybe he shouldn’t have thrown off that blanket…

“Aren’t you sleepy?” Colette asked, maybe seeing the question on his face. She yawned then, and it made him wonder… How long had she been up tonight?

“I think you’re the sleepy one!” And so he scurried back just a bit on the bed, all while still holding her hands. “You can sleep here if you want.”

It only made sense to him. He didn’t want to let her go.

If Colette had any protests to it, she didn’t say it. Even as she stared at him, head tilting just a bit to the side. It showed off more of her pointed ears that he knew was different from his own. He liked those differences, wanted to know more about them.

“I should be…” she started to say, but she paused, and Lloyd used that pause to gently nudge her towards him.

“It’s okay. We can worry about stuff in the morning, right?”

Little did Lloyd know was that each word he was saying, each gentle squeeze of his hands against Colette’s was like a sun peeking through dark clouds that had covered the sky for so long. And who wouldn’t be drawn to such a sight and feel its warmth on their skin?

“Yeah!” she agreed, the lightness in her voice so new and refreshing. She practically stumbled onto the bed, nearly hitting Lloyd’s chin with her head. “S-sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it!” And Lloyd really didn’t want to worry about anything anymore. He wondered if he even could, with the smile continuing to stretch his cheeks.

It took a while but soon they both settled underneath thick blankets, in a home that wasn’t their own, in a bed that didn’t belong to either of them. Something about that made Lloyd eager and excited. When Colette laid down next to him, seeing her eyes and ears so up close, she asked him, “Does your head still hurt?”

The bandage around his head shifted again, felt a bit tender, but that was it. “Not really,” he said. “But, can you stroke my head like you did before anyway?” It had felt really nice.

Colette didn’t hesitate, already reaching out to dig her fingers in his hair, petting him so gently that it already made him so sleepy. “This is nice,” he heard her say.

Lloyd knew he never wanted to let this feeling go.

It was only in the morning that Raine and Genis went inside to see the child that was the Chosen, and the boy that had once held such hurt in his eyes, cuddled against each other in bed, both looking so small. Yet they slept peacefully, even as the sun streamed in through the window, illuminating their faces.

All throughout the night, they still held hands.

The Great Pasca Tree had been the one to find him first.

Lloyd had woken up to cold and darkness, but the branches that stretched out over him shielded him from the rain, their shivering leaves settling down the sharpness in his head. Back then, his head had always hurt, no matter what he did. Even afterwards, when Lutesse would comb his hair, when he’d be in classes, when he’d try to practice with his new swords, trying to drive out the ache that would continually dull and throb.

Except, sometimes, it would hurt less when he came to the Tree, craning his neck until he could see to the very top of it, so far back that he would have fallen backwards if not careful.

“Do you hear them too?” a voice had asked him once. The Chosen was next to him, the girl that was so distant from everyone else, the one that he was always drawn to.

But she always knew where to find him first. Behind the schoolhouse where he escaped to be alone, to the training grounds where he’d practice with the swords by himself, even to the gates of his home with Lutesse, when he’d see her searching for him…

She was clasping her hands in front of her, eyes flicking from the branches to him – seeing him, or wanting to. “Pasca says they hope you will feel better today.”

The tips of her ears poked through her hair, wishing he could just touch them instead of tugging at them, wishing he could just hold her hands instead of pulling at them both. But something about the girl made him want to know her, even through the awful pounding in his head, through the shouting that told him to do awful things.

All this time, he had felt so broken. So broken that he didn’t know what to say.

A shout from far-off made him panicked, made Colette run off, and Lloyd had only wanted to follow her. And as he left the shade of Pasca’s branches, his headache grew worse, until he felt that his very skull would shatter from the intensity.

He had rushed after her, (to push, to grab, to beg) and then he had tripped, or maybe he had meant to jump off all along to get rid of the pain that wouldn’t leave, and as he fell and fell into a chasm that seemed to stretch on forever, that made him see her face last as he went and-

He woke up to the sound of crying.

He looked to his left, to the same girl that was seated at his bedside – and only then did he realize he was lying in a bed, the covers tucked up to his chin. Something was also wrapped around his forehead, though he could barely see what.

Never had he known what it was like to be safe like this.

Never had he known what it was like to be this happy.

That had been Lloyd’s first and precious memory.

#tales of symphonia #tales of crestoria #colloyd #lloyd irving #colette brunel #genis sage #raine sage #lutesse crestoria #fanfiction #one shot

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criar-solucoes-online · 6 years

Video

#lutesse (em Criar Soluções On&Offline) https://www.instagram.com/p/BonHJf5F7ku/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=7h57ppjpda31

#lutesse

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libidomechanica · 7 years

Text

‘And night’

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#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 3 #54 texts

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fanforumcom · 7 years

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Grimm is an American occult detective police procedural drama series on NBC. The show has been described as "a cop drama - with a twist, a dark and fantastical project about a world in which characters inspired by Grimms' Fairy Tales exist", although the stories and characters inspiring the show are also drawn from other sources. NBC renewed Grimm for a sixth and final season, consisting of 13 episodes. The Grimm board on Fan Forum opened in October of 2013 and is moderated by NikNak (Nikki), who is also Fan Forum's Moderator Support Team manager. Thank you also to Lutesse (Sherry) for her work as moderator on the Grimm board in the past. The board has celebrated many milestones, that includes anniversaries and their latest posting milestone of 75,000 posts made on the board, as well as a grand celebration of Grimm's 100th episode! The individual character/cast threads are the most popular threads on the board, including Nick Burkhardt, Adalind Schade, and Juliette Silverton. If you are a fan of the show or want to learn more, check out the Grimm board here!!!

#grimm #nick burkhardt #adalind schade #juliette silverton #board spotlight #fanforum #fan forum

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trisimocitylax-blog · 7 years

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frayed-symphony · 2 years

Photo

"You wanna own your sin, or you wanna let it own you?” Day 2 of Colloydweek 2022!

Detail shots;

I mocked up a new memoria stone for Lloyd since he never got a second one. A Transgressor AU that lives only in my head

#tales of symphonia #tales of crestoria #lloyd irving #colette brunel #vicious #lutesse #enforcers #colloydweek2022 #colloydweek #myart #colloyd

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umbry-fic · 3 years

Text

“Hello, How Are You?”

Summary: The Great Pasca Tree has stood for millennia, longer even than people have walked the land. It has seen much.

But this is its first time seeing a little girl come up to it, asking, "How are you?"

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia, Tales of Crestoria Characters: Colette Brunel, Lloyd Irving, Great Pasca Tree, Lutesse Relationships: Colette Brunel & Great Pasca Tree, Colette Brunel & Lutesse, Background Colloyd Rating: T Word Count: 10824 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 10/07/2021

Notes+Warnings: More Lloyd side story stuff, so spoilers! This is mostly written from the POV of The Great Pasca tree, who I refer to as Pasca and who uses it pronouns. (Sorry if that's confusing.)

Just expanding on some more headcanons I have! (And possibly straying into AU territory too...)

Title from Nanou's song.

~~~

It was born into darkness, having sprouted from a seed carrying the promise of life, ferried to fertile dirt by the beak of a bird, one of many in a flock. That fragile seed grew into a tiny sapling that knew of nothing but the slow and enduring process of growth - new tips appearing, new leaves protruding out of branches, and roots extending further into the dirt.

The passage of time was marked only by seasons.

Spring brought with it flowers, and the fuzzy snouts of animals that nosed and chewed at the tree’s leaves.

Summer brought with it rain, the droplets cool against the tree’s leaves and sating its thirst.

Autumn brought with it strong winds that tore away the tree’s leaves and left it barren.

Winter brought with it biting frost that caked the tree’s bark, making each day a struggle for survival.

Countless seasons passed as the tree grew taller and stronger against the forces of nature. Its collection of branches became wider, its roots forming an unseen labyrinth. It did not mind the passage of time, did not register it at all, for each day was much the same as the last - darkness, and the occasional sensation. The tree simply existed, living out each second, experiencing emotions it was not yet able to describe or understand.

The tree was not aware of mana, even though it had always known it. The sphere of life contained within itself, the energy that ran through the dirt which its roots tapped into, the particles that floated in the air like fireflies, burning bright but going unseen as they brushed against its bark.

Even millennia later, the same question haunted the tree, a question that had never received an answer. Why had mana picked it to be its vessel? After all, there were a dozen other trees just like it close by that were surely all viable candidates. But the collection of mana ignored them all, coming to the tree with no explanation, with nothing but a vow to be made - that the mana was never to be controlled. The tree would act as the source through which mana was equally distributed, and nothing more unless absolutely necessary. To break that vow would mean betraying the essence of the world itself and disrupting the natural order, possibly dooming every living creature.

And so the tree agreed, for it had no reason not to. The existence that the collection of mana proposed seemed to be no different from the one it led now - quiet and peaceful, just with the addition of mana running through itself.

How wrong it had been.

Its insides were flooded with bright, sparkling lifeforce, the flow of energy in its roots reversed such that it was giving instead of taking. The surplus of mana bolstered its growth, causing its trunk to widen ever more, until it was truly massive, looming over all. Its branches and leaves became an umbrella, providing shade for any creature that decided to rest beneath its boughs.

But that was not the only consequence - there was also knowledge. The ability to read the mana signatures around it, the ability to convert the waves of mana that surged through the air into sight and sound, despite its lack of eyes or ears.

The tree came to know the colourful creatures that walked the land beside its immobile form. Creatures who slaughtered each other in a blood-soaked cycle of survival, but a cycle that was built on mutual respect. It came to know its three other counterparts, trees which stood equally as tall as itself in other corners of the world. They communicated sparsely through the channels of mana that connected the four of them. Not through words, for those would not come for another few centuries. No, they communicated through emotions, those that the tree had only now learned to interpret.

Happiness at growth and a beautiful day.

Sadness at death.

And loneliness.

The ever-present loneliness permeated all. For the tree found that it could not communicate with any of the creatures that stopped before it, seeking shelter or hoping to enjoy the bountiful mana around.

All it could do was watch.

And watch it did, as the first people to walk the lands settled down next to the four trees of mana, for the land was fertile and the harvest plentiful. They gave it a name, and so it came to be known as the Great Pasca Tree. It decided to simply call itself Pasca, for that rolled off the “tongue” much easier.

Pasca was delighted to have permanent company, to learn from these interesting creatures the way of words. The people, meanwhile, came to see it as some form of sacred deity. They took to praying before it, in hopes that their wishes could come true, while the shade under its leaves became a favourite spot for children to play in. People from all walks of life, elves, humans and half-elves alike, all coming to gather before Pasca.

It was disappointing to learn that no one could hear its voice, no matter how loud Pasca shouted. Still, it tried to answer every question that was asked of it, to acknowledge every wish that it was entrusted with, even if no one could understand it.

And so a few centuries passed in a blur as Pasca serenely watched. Faces that came and went, eventually all being swallowed up by time, none important enough to be remembered. The people slowly developed, making new and impressive advancements. Small conflicts arose from time to time, but they were easily resolved.

Pasca told itself that it would be content to simply watch for all eternity. The prosperity of the world was something all four of the Great Trees wished for, and watching that wish be granted brought Pasca happiness. Even if that joy could not chase away the shadow of loneliness.

There was a growing frisson between the different species, however. One born of an unknown reason, but one that soon became too large to be ignored, and one that broke Pasca's heart. It hated what it saw: cruelty, the mocking of suffering, belittling. Elves derided humans and half-elves as lesser species, humans saw half-elves as impure and elves as arrogant, and half-elves withdrew completely, trampled by the hatred of the rest.

What Pasca hated the most was its inability to reach out and reason with any of them, to tell them that what they were doing only hurt themselves in the end.

The people began to tear each other apart, each species trying their best to take control of the mana by contesting the territory around the Great Trees. Bloodshed, betrayal, heartbreak... Pasca witnessed it all.

In the end, the elves succeeded in staking their claim on the land next to Pasca, but not without soaking their hands in an endless river of blood. The dirt by Pasca’s roots would forever be stained, even after the blood was washed away by the rain. And the elves did not stop there.

They began trying to harness the mana for much more nefarious purposes, to try and control Pasca itself. Communication with the rest of the trees proved that the same thing was happening everywhere.

This could not go on. All Pasca had ever done was its role: to give. And people had taken, and taken, and taken, and they would not stop taking until they had destroyed everything in their wrath.

To protect that wish for a happier world, to safeguard the vow they had once sworn upon, the Great Trees sealed themselves away with a fog. A fog that would confound any that walked into its endless white, for any who tried would only end up emerging elsewhere, unable to make any headway.

None would ever lay eyes upon the Great Trees again. None would ever try to corrupt them, to harness the mana that ran within them.

It would be better this way, if the knowledge of the Great Tree’s existence were to fade away into nothing, if the memory of their existence became nothing more than a legend.

And Pasca was tired. So, so exhausted, its branches drooping and leaves fluttering to the ground. Heartbroken from people shattering the trust it had placed in the benevolence of all who walked this land, and by the actions of the elves, who had gone so far as to carve directly into its trunk.

It would live out each day in this clearing, doing its job. Surrounded by other, smaller trees that eked out existence day by day, entirely unaware of Pasca’s presence. All alone.

It would have been better to remain in the darkness like those trees. Then it would not have known betrayal, would not have been able to put a name to the loneliness it felt.

With no one to keep it company, Pasca slipped into a slumber, barely aware of time passing it by. A slumber that lasted a few millennia.

At least, it thought so. There was no real point in keeping count.

~~~

What attracted Pasca’s attention was the unique mana signature. It wasn’t that of a bird, or a squirrel’s, or a dog’s. Not any of the creatures that frequented this clearing, for they were spared from the effects of the fog.

No, it was a mana signature that Pasca had never come across before. Which was unusual, considering its many years of existence.

Intrigue was what Pasca felt. An emotion, after an eternity of emptiness. It was enough to get Pasca to open up its sight and hearing again.

Bright colours flooded its vision: the vivid green of the leaves of the trees that formed the border of the clearing, the tiny windows of blue sky that were visible between the criss-cross of its branches, the deep brown of bark. A cacophony of sounds invaded its hearing: the rustling of the leaves in the wind, the cries of birds in the far distance, and the crunching of grass under the feet of the intruder.

Said intruder was a girl. A young one, Pasca supposed, though it was never the greatest at guessing ages. But surely she had to be young, if her head didn’t even reach the lowest of Pasca’s branches. She was wearing a plain white dress that was much too big for her, with sleeves that dwarfed her slender arms, and with a hem that nearly touched the ground. Her short golden hair did nothing to hide the pointed ears that marked her of elven descent. She most likely hailed from the village of elves that was situated outside the forest. If that village still stood after all this time.

Yet her mana signature was not that of an elf, or even a half-elf’s. It reminded Pasca more of its fellow Great Trees. But that wasn’t possible.

There was a large smile on her face, one that Pasca couldn’t help but fixate on. It had been so, so long since it had seen a genuine smile, one that could light up its surroundings in its innocent joy.

The girl came up to Pasca without any fear in her step at all. She lay a careful hand on its bark, pressing her ear against it like she was listening for a heartbeat, in a place where she would find none. For Pasca’s heartbeat was nothing more than streams of mana.

“Hello, Mr Great Pasca Tree, how are you?” she chirped in a sing-song voice.

“How did you find your way here, child? It should be impossible!” Pasca asked grumpily, still trying to shake the sleep out of its leaves.

Why did it even bother talking? It wasn’t like the girl would have any way of comprehending its words.

“Oh, I just walked, Mr Tree!”

“Through the fog?” Pasca replied absentmindedly, before its mind screeched to a halt. “Wait, how are you able to hear me?”

The girl cocked her head, looking utterly confused by its answer. “You’re talking, so I’m able to hear you…? Though your voice does sound a bit weird, considering it's only in my head.”

“You… Who are you…?” How was a mere child able to do this? To understand it, where thousands had failed?

“Me? Oh!” The girl laughed sheepishly, her laughter filling up the entire clearing and chasing away the dreary silence. She spun in an excited circle, her dress flaring around her and the blue ribbons attached to her short sleeves continuing to sway even after she came to a stop. “I’m Colette! Colette Brunel! I’m sorry for not giving you my name first when I already knew yours!”

Pasca didn’t quite know how to react, how to feel, even, in the face of this eager child who was actually managing to talk to it. How did one deal with an excitable child whose full attention was focused on it?

“Ah… You sounded quite tired before.” Colette clasped her hands behind her back, swaying from side to side. “Did I wake you up? I’m really sorry if that’s the case, Mr Tree! I can leave if I’m annoying you…”

“No, it’s… alright,” Pasca answered, finding that it didn’t want Colette to leave just yet. “And you can call me Pasca.”

Easier than calling it Mr Tree all the time...

“Okay, Pasca! That’s a really nice name! Um, but you haven’t answered my first question, so I’ll ask it again. How are you?”

“Fine, I suppose?” Pasca replied, not certain what an appropriate reply was. Nobody had ever asked it that question before. In fact, no one had ever asked it about itself.

“That’s great!” Somehow, Colette’s smile only grew brighter as she clapped her hands together. “Now that that’s answered, we’re officially friends! So let’s talk about anything and everything!”

~~~

Colette had left not soon after, exclaiming about being late for lessons. Pasca had still been in shock, unable to process that a living, breathing person had stepped foot before it for the first time in millennia. And that said person could understand it.

When the girl had not turned up the next day, Pasca had chalked it off as a hallucination, one born of an impossible desire to connect. No matter how improbable it was for Pasca’s mind to have thought up an entire girl, what else was it supposed to believe in? After all, no one should have been able to find this clearing, let alone understand the words of a tree with no mouth.

Pasca had tried returning to its slumber, but found that no matter how hard it tried, it couldn’t succeed. Stupid delusions.

Yet Colette had turned up the day after that. And again. And again. And again! Today was her sixth visit!

Actually, now that Pasca thought about it… Why was it keeping count, exactly?!

Pasca was fairly certain Colette was real by this point - if not for her continued presence, then because her hand on its bark seemed too warm to be fake.

She would always start out each visit by asking how Pasca was. It had not replied since their first meeting, uncertain if it could trust her. Or anyone, really. People had shown the depths they were willing to stoop to long ago, and Pasca was unable to forget. So it was safer for Pasca to remain at a distance, to avoid getting hurt ever again.

Though that was rather difficult to do, honestly speaking, when confronted with her boundless energy.

Even without an answer from Pasca, Colette would forge on, keeping her promise to talk about anything and everything. She would chatter on and on, about the village of elves that was her home, about what she had done that day, about stupid jokes that got a silent chuckle out of Pasca, about the human boy she knew. Mundane topics that piled up atop each other, filling up the time before she left the clearing to go home, ensuring that there was never silence when she was around.

Pasca couldn't help but absorb every word voraciously. It wanted to know about the outside world and how it had changed in the time it had been asleep. The flame of hope that things might be better was carefully tempered, but could not be put out.

Pasca’s feelings were quite the contradiction.

“Hello, Pasca,” Colette called out, settling herself down in a cross-legged position by Pasca’s trunk, laying a hand on the bark as she always did. “How are you?” she asked, saying the words just as eagerly as she always did, yet already tinged with a hint of disappointment at the expected non-answer.

“Good.”

Wait. Wait, it had just replied without meaning to. Oh no, no, no! It was failing in remaining at a distance already!

“That’s great!” Colette pounced on the tiny moment of weakness like a ravenous predator, eyes shining as she stared up at the canopy. “How so?”

Pasca cursed internally. It would feel horrible if it was the one to cause a crestfallen expression on Colette’s face, now that it had gotten her hopes up.

“Well…” it trailed off, casting its mind back to what had occurred over the course of the day. It wasn’t even sure why “good” had been its answer. “There was a nice breeze in the morning before you came. And yesterday, there was a refreshing drizzle.”

“Oh! That drizzle in the middle of the night? It sure left some puddles!” Colette giggled, fingers smoothing against the grass, droplets of water sliding down the bent stalks. “I’m glad you had a good day. I hope your next one is just as amazing, if not more!”

“...thank you,” Pasca muttered, deciding that this was its limit on speech for the day. And maybe the rest of the week.

It did feel good to say something again, though.

Colette didn’t seem to mind the silence that Pasca lapsed into, simply continuing on to her usual topics of one-sided conversation. There was a little more of a spring to her step when she left that day, waving goodbye in a cheerful manner.

Pasca sighed. Now that it had let down its impregnable walls - or, more accurately, Colette had smashed its fragile, hole-riddled walls with her cheerful words, kind smile and gentle touch, there was no going back.

Oh well, Pasca thought to itself. What harm was there in talking to an innocent child, and one as sweet as Colette?

Besides, Pasca still had the power to protect itself if the need arose. And it would do so with no hesitation if Colette proved to be a threat to the vow it held.

That’s what it told itself, at least.

~~~

Pasca came to expect the question of “How are you?” And it began to give actual answers, to tell Colette about everything that had happened in her absence.

For it was now counting the seconds between her leaving, always before night fell, and her next appearance, instead of letting time slip through its branches. Sometimes Colette was absent for two days, sometimes two weeks. But she always returned.

Pasca would tell her of the new nest that a bird had crafted upon its branches, of the family of fluffy squirrels that had made their home in one of its hollows, of the colourful butterflies that had turned up, flapping their wings as they explored the fresh air. They were events that, for the longest time, had been nothing special to Pasca. Yet the mere mention of them was enough to make Colette squeal in delight. The sight brought joy to Pasca, a radiant joy it had never felt before, not even when reaching a new milestone in height or gaining a new circle of tree rings.

And in return, Pasca gradually got used to Colette’s antics. How she would sometimes tip-toe into the clearing, like she was trying to scare Pasca by sneaking up on it. An impossible task, as Pasca pointed out, but Colette never stopped trying, always sinking into a pout whenever she was inevitably caught, promising that one day she’d do it.

Not that she didn’t scare Pasca enough by continually climbing it. Whether it was to look for critters, or just to enjoy the breeze from a higher elevation, Colette would ignore Pasca’s consternated scoldings and take to finding footholds in its bark. Not without falling, of course, both on the way up and on her way down. She had done so countless times, tumbling back to the dirt and never failing to give Pasca a scare. Every. Single. Time. Did this girl want poor Pasca to grow old and withered from all the stress?

But Colette always got away with nothing more than a scratch, eager to get right back to climbing, until she finally managed to scramble up onto a branch like a monkey, where she would sit swinging her legs. Pasca couldn’t believe this clumsy girl’s luck! Even knowing that, it still told her off in an exasperated tone every time she started climbing. Colette would get to a secure perch on a branch with a triumphant yell of “I did it! I told you I could do it!”, before sticking out her tongue to irk Pasca. But she always took care not to exert too much strength on the branches or pull off any leaves, like she was afraid of hurting Pasca somehow, even though her tiny body was unlikely to hold the necessary power.

Their time together gradually accumulated, as Pasca noted the seasons that passed.

Their first meetings were in summer. Colette’s hair would sometimes be wet from the showers, and she would take shelter under the shade of Pasca’s branches to escape the vicious sun, thanking Pasca for the help. She would sit completely still, letting various insects come to rest on her until she resembled a rainbow. A very dusty rainbow. When the insects inevitably brushed her nose, she would break out into giggles, causing a mass exodus of fluttering wings.

In autumn, Colette teased Pasca about its “bald” branches, prompting half-hearted comebacks from it. She would curl up on the natural bed of red leaves, going to sleep. Pasca couldn’t control the rate at which its leaves fell or their trajectory, but it wished more might fall upon the peaceful girl who brought peace to Pasca as well, to give her a comfortable blanket and a rejuvenating rest. Once she left, the wind would blow away her bed, and a new one would be made.

In winter, Colette dressed appropriately for the weather in a coat and a beanie. Her cheeks and the tips of her ears were flushed red, and she would sit with her back to Pasca’s rough bark, rubbing her hands together for warmth. Much to Pasca’s amusement, she also brought along heaps of knitted blankets. Colette painstakingly wrapped them around Pasca’s wide trunk, though she still did not possess enough to go around the whole perimeter. When questioned on why, Colette only giggled and patted the blankets, stating that surely Pasca got cold too. It didn’t make sense, but Colette’s actions rarely did. All that mattered was that it made Pasca laugh. When it snowed, Colette would catch the snowflakes on her tongue, until they melted and disappeared.

In spring, Colette complimented the multi-coloured flowers that bloomed on Pasca’s branches. She collected those that had fallen to the ground - sometimes to place behind her ear, sometimes to make intricate flower crowns that she would hang upon Pasca’s lowest branches, which she could now barely reach if she stood tall on the tips of her toes. Pasca knew that the flower crowns would be ripped apart by the birds that roosted on its branches once Colette left, but it made no mention of this, for what made the flower crowns special were their intent as gifts. Colette herself also brought flowers, little seedlings that she planted around the clearing. “To give this clearing more colour, and to keep Pasca company!” she exclaimed.

But time was marked not only by seasons. It was also marked by Colette - her hair growing longer until it covered her ears, the centimetres of height she gained, the way she slowly filled out the sleeves of her dress better.

Watching Colette grow older and actually caring enough to follow that process… It was not a future Pasca would have thought possible before. But, against all odds, this child had imprinted herself onto its heart. Always looking out for the good of others, even a tree such as itself that everyone always assumed did not possess a soul or dreams of its own. She had touched Pasca’s lonely soul with a kind hand and had been the only one to give instead of take.

Pasca never wanted this tranquil time to end.

But… It would, someday.

It had to.

~~~

Today was one of those rare days where Colette’s voice did not fill the clearing, attracting the squirrels to scurry out onto Pasca’s branches to listen to her. Instead, what did fill the empty space were her sobs, echoing between the leaves.

Colette was covering her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking with her back pushed up against Pasca’s trunk, knees pulled up to her chest.

What to do, what to do...?

It wasn’t like Colette hadn’t confided her troubles in Pasca before - she had talked about difficult homework, about punishments for oversleeping, trivial little things like that. It wasn’t like she hadn’t started crying before - she had done so over the smallest things, like one of the baby birds that had not survived winter, despite it being a death by nature’s fair hand. But she had never sounded this sorrowful, like something was reaching into her chest and twisting her heart.

Colette had started talking about that human boy she’d mentioned before, mentioning how he’d taken a rather terrifying fall off a cliff and how he’d finally woken up after hours spent by his side. Then she’d burst into tears, her sniffles interspersed with mumbles of “It’s all my fault.”

What could it do, really? All the other times Colette had started crying, her tears had disappeared within minutes as she returned to a smile, all before Pasca could even say anything. It didn’t even know what to say, was woefully inexperienced in the field of comforting a child. Couldn’t hug her, couldn’t press a kiss to her forehead like worried mothers had when they brought their sick children before Pasca to pray for their recovery.

All Pasca could do was wield the power of words clumsily, and hope that was enough.

For its wish for a better world had changed, had become a wish for a world where this child who had wormed her insistent way into its heart would be free to be happy. It wanted to see her smiling.

“It wasn’t your fault, Colette. It was an accident,” Pasca said, believing in its own words but not knowing if Colette was even listening. She would never act maliciously of her own volition. Her soul was far too kind to be able to accept doing so. “Besides, Lloyd’s alright now, isn’t he? Then there’s no use worrying over whose fault his fall was.”

“But… Lloyd doesn’t remember anything! What if he forgot something important to him? Like his parents, or the friends he had before he came to the village? I would have stolen those precious memories from him...”

“What’s done is done, Colette. Why not make new memories with him instead of focusing on that which was lost? And you said you helped tend to his wounds. Even if you had some small hand in his fall, I say you’ve done enough to atone for it.”

Honestly, losing memories did not seem to be that horrible of a fate. Especially if those memories held nothing but pain. Pasca would not have minded restarting with a fresh slate, if that meant it could freely trust in people again.

Colette wiped at her tears with her sleeve, rising unsteadily to her feet. She swayed, tiny shoulders seemingly about to collapse under the crushing weight of guilt. For a soul so kind as hers was also one that would accept everything as her responsibility.

“Thank you, Pasca, for the kind words. They mean a lot. Really,” Colette whispered, finally breaking into a smile. It was a weak smile, not fully true, but it was a smile nonetheless.

“I’m sorry I can’t do more for you.”

It was the inevitable realisation that Pasca had come to. Despite all the power that supposedly ran through it, Pasca could do nothing.

“No, don’t say that. You’ve done more than enough!” Colette insisted, her smile turning into a true one. If there was one thing Colette would not allow, it was someone putting themselves down. “So, truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“No, Colette, I’m all good. But, thank you for asking.”

“No problem!”

Colette always asked if Pasca wished to air anything itself, despite knowing it would always decline. For it did not wish to burden Colette with the mistakes people had made long ago. They had nothing to do with her, and surely her thin shoulders would break under the weight of it all.

Pasca could not save Colette from the dark sorrow that lurked within her heart, the shadow that trailed the both of them and would one day swallow them whole. The sorrow she covered up with a cheery attitude and had let slip today, unable to keep the overbearing pain within.

For even though Pasca may be awkward, it was not stupid. It could easily see the secret that lay behind her refusal to fully answer the question of who she was, even if she had not uttered an outright lie. Pasca held its own theories on her identity, but did not speak of them. And the connection between the two of them allowed Pasca to peek within her heart, just slightly.

Pasca could not shower her with love through physical acts, could not show her affection through anything other than speech. All Pasca could do was make this clearing, the place it suspected was the only one where Colette was free to be herself, as safe and happy a space for her as possible. To keep fear and sadness out of its sacred confines. And on that front, Pasca would do its very best.

Pasca would be happy to provide Colette with a home.

~~~

“Oh, be careful!”

Colette came into view with a merry shout, another presence by her side - a human boy that Pasca reasoned was likely to be Lloyd, easily identifiable because of the bandage wrapped around his head. He appeared a little unsteady on his feet, stumbling occasionally, with Colette holding his hand tightly to ensure he didn’t fall over as they made their way over to Pasca.

So her ability to make her way through the fog extended to anyone who accompanied her, huh? Interesting. That only added to the mounting theories swirling in Pasca’s mind, that it continued to swallow down.

Pasca remained silent, attention focussed on the boy it had not met before. A stranger… But if Colette had brought him all the way here, then she must trust him completely. Perhaps that meant the two of them were friends now?

“Whoa,” Lloyd exclaimed in awe, staring up at Pasca with wide eyes as he and Colette came to a stop. He scanned it from top-to-bottom twice, as if in disbelief that Pasca’s branches could extend that high, up into the heavens. “It’s huge!”

“Pasca is huge!” Colette agreed with a happy nod. “Oh, right! Introductions are in order! Lloyd, this is Pasca! Pasca, this is Lloyd!” she said, gesturing between the two.

“Hello, Lloyd,” Pasca replied, deciding that it would put in the effort to try and get to know Colette’s new friend. After all, it was probably for the best that the two of them got along.

Colette fell into a pout as Lloyd failed to respond for a full minute, squeezing his hand to get his attention. “Lloyd! It’s rude not to reply when someone talks to you! Especially if they’re greeting you.”

Pasca was inclined to agree. Did Lloyd have a bad attitude or something…?

Lloyd blinked in confusion, swivelling his head around. “But… I don’t hear anyone talking to me! And I know you mentioned that Pasca’s your friend, but how does it talk to you without a mouth?”

Ah, right. Colette had been the only soul Pasca had known for so long that it had completely forgotten how everyone else couldn’t hear its voice.

“Colette, he can’t hear me,” it pointed out before this farce could go on any longer.

“Oh. That’s right.” Colette appeared to wilt, shoulders drooping. “But… then how will you two talk to each other?”

“Colette…” Lloyd muttered, seemingly crestfallen at his friend’s disappointment. “Oh! Wait, I have an idea! How about you translate for me?”

“That’s a great idea, Lloyd!” Colette replied, perking up immediately. “You’re so smart.”

“Ehehe, I try my best.” Lloyd blushed, moving a hand to scratch at the back of his head, before stopping once he came into contact with the bandage.

In truth, Pasca didn’t think it was a very impressive idea. In fact, it had been about to suggest it. If this was what passed as smart for Lloyd, then the boy didn’t seem very bright.

But he had made Colette’s smile return, so Pasca would let this slide. Just this once.

Only this once.

“Okay, Pasca!” Lloyd grinned, turning to face Pasca with his hands on his hips. “I’ll be getting to know you today!”

In the end, Lloyd didn’t manage to ask that many questions before fatigue’s claws dug into him. And the questions he did ask were pretty stupid, including the star example: “How do trees go to the toilet?” Pasca’s impression of Lloyd as not very bright was further reinforced. Maybe it was just because of the head injury? Or maybe Lloyd really was just this dumb, all the time. Its memories of individual humans were few and far between, but Pasca didn’t remember them being this devoid of smarts, so it appeared to be unique to Lloyd.

Pasca watched the two - Lloyd asleep with his head pillowed on Colette’s lap as she sat facing Pasca. He occasionally mumbled the slightest phrase, while Colette gently ran her hand over the tips of his brown hair, careful not to disrupt Lloyd’s rest. She was humming a little tune, her now shoulder-length hair swaying in the breeze.

“You’re fond of him,” Pasca said. It had noted the way Lloyd stared at Colette when she wasn’t looking, almost like he was constantly in awe at being in her presence, the way he occasionally reached out his hand as if to grab Colette’s, only to retract it before Colette turned around and noticed. Just one advantage of Pasca’s unique vantage point. Colette didn’t quite look at Lloyd the same way, but she was showing him a lot of affection. “How fond?” Pasca teased, wishing it possessed eyelids to wink with and elbows to nudge with, just like how the children used to do beneath its leaves when gossipping about first loves. This wasn’t as effective with just its voice.

“Uh…?” Colette’s humming came to an abrupt stop, though her hands continued in their constant rhythm. She spoke only in her mind, refusing to open her mouth and wake Lloyd up. “He’s my friend. So I like him,” Colette replied, craning her neck up to stare at the leaves.

Damn it. Pasca felt like it had been shot through the trunk. Was it this out of touch after sleeping for so long? The meaning behind its words had flown completely over Colette’s head!

…

Was it ever in touch in the first place? Gah.

Silence fell within the clearing again as Pasca sulked, not speaking another word. Not that it remained in a bad mood for long, even as Colette fell asleep as well, her head coming to lean against Pasca’s trunk as her arm went slack.

There was a special contentment in watching the two children sleep, utterly at peace in each other’s company. Dreamy smiles played on their faces, their chests rising and falling steadily as butterflies came to perch on their prone forms.

There was joy blooming in Pasca’s heart, at the knowledge that Colette had found another companion. One who was actually capable of protecting her, of giving her the touch and the love she so sorely needed.

Sure, there was jealousy involved - that Lloyd, even as a child, held more power than Pasca ever would. But those were inconsequential bursts of ugly emotion, far overshadowed by the immense relief Pasca felt. Colette had someone that would stay with her now, even outside the boundaries of this clearing. Someone who might even be able to save her from her looming fate. And if that became the reason as to why it and Colette’s time together had to end, then Pasca would accept that. As long as Colette was happy and safe.

Lloyd made Colette smile, and his heart was in the right place. That was enough for Pasca to declare Lloyd good.

Though Pasca would maintain that Lloyd was dumb. It would not give that up.

It would never give that up.

~~~

“I’ve been meaning to ask this for a while, Pasca, but…” Colette laid a hand on a special section of Pasca’s trunk. One that even Pasca itself avoided looking at as much as possible, but one that Colette must have noticed immediately upon first walking into the clearing, for it was far too obvious to avoid detection.

It was a section on the side that had been completely hollowed out, much like how rot and mildew had made quick work of other trees. Pasca’s tree rings were exposed to the elements, free for the coldest of winds to brush against. If it were any other tree, it likely would have died from the damage, collapsing onto its side to become just another fallen log on the forest floor, soon to return to the earth. But the mana had somehow kept Pasca alive all this time, its form too precious of a vessel to lose.

“What happened?”

Colette asked the question not with fascination, but instead out of concern, as if hoping she could somehow make things better. Her finger followed the path of one tree ring, gentle.

Should Pasca answer? That was the question it struggled with. But withholding the truth would only make things worse, would only further strain the already breaking illusion. Besides, Colette, more likely than not, already held the answer.

"The elves took it. A long time ago," Pasca replied hesitantly, unsure what reaction Colette would have.

The shadow that fell over her eyes was the final nail in the coffin, enough to confirm its suspicions over her origins as fact instead of speculation.

But still, Pasca brought nothing up.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

What Colette was apologising for was unclear. The actions of the elves in the past? What she would have to do in the future?

Perhaps she was apologising for everything, small and large alike, that had befallen Pasca in the past, and would befall Pasca.

"It's alright, Colette. It doesn't hurt anymore."

That was almost a lie. Pasca did not bleed, not like deers did when wolves dug their fangs into it, not like Colette did when she scratched her elbow against a particularly sharp branch. It had not bled when the elves used their magic-imbued knives to cut into it, and perhaps that had been justification enough to the elves that Pasca felt no pain. But it had burned, stung as a part of Pasca had been stolen away. The crevice continued to ache, even now, but Pasca had gotten so used to the sensation that it no longer registered it.

"I'm glad to hear that," Colette said, the usual happy expression slipping onto her face in practised motions.

That was where the conversation ended, even as Pasca yearned to say more.

But what? It didn't know. What could make this all better? That inevitable shadow was fast catching up to Colette, and she would not be able to escape it, no matter how far she ran.

Pasca had a feeling that the moment where everything would come to light was soon approaching.

And that, at that moment, things would have no choice but to fall apart, no matter how much it wished to protect Colette.

~~~

Fall apart it did, in the most horrifying of manners.

On that fateful day, Colette did not walk into the clearing, or attempt to sneak into it, or skip into it, each spring full of joy. No, she was dragged in, her feet digging into the dirt in a futile attempt to stop the person who was dragging her. An elf with long flowing blue hair and eyes narrowed into a cruel glare, hand painfully squeezing Colette’s arm. Perhaps this elf had been among the innocent children who had played in the shade of the tree, once upon a time. Or perhaps not. Pasca didn’t know, for the faces from then had all been lost to time, happy memories relegated to nothing more than a fairy tale.

But the scene before Pasca now was no fantasy. This was cruel reality.

Colette’s head was bowed, those blue eyes now dull. Her entire body was shaking, angled to be as far from the elf as possible, but unable to escape the elf’s iron grip.

So this elf was one of the sources of Colette’s pain, of the anguished guilt and the fear that radiated off the child at this very moment.

Pasca wanted to rescue Colette from the elf's grip. Wanted to embrace her, shield her, protect her, even with just its branches…

But it couldn’t even do that.

There was nothing it could do but watch events play out before its eyes, unable to break out of its role of unbiased guardian. At the end of the day, it was nothing but an immobile tree.

“Do it, Chosen,” the woman commanded harshly, her nails digging into Colette’s arm as Colette winced. “Time to see if your lessons have paid off.”

“But - Chief Lutesse, can you not hear Pasca’s voice, feel its wish? That’s not what it wants!” Colette retorted, voice trembling with fear. But still, she spoke up, shoulders tensed, determined. “It wants a better world for everyone, one-”

“Shut your mouth, insolent girl,” Lutesse snarled, interrupting Colette with a slap across the face. “Your childish delusions do not change the fact that that is a mere tree, one that is incapable of thought! And if it could, surely it would lament how the rest of the world is wasting its mana! Are you simply afraid you can’t do it? Because we could simply replace you if that’s the case.”

“N - no!”

“Or do you not want to, Chosen?” Lutesse leaned closer to Colette, making the young child seem even tinier as she cowered. “Because you’re not the only one I can lay my hands on. Perhaps one of your precious friends? How about Genis?”

“W - what…? Genis…?” Colette’s face lost all colour, her eyes widening in horror like she couldn’t believe her ears, like she couldn’t believe Lutesse would ever hurt anyone other than her.

“So? Will you do as you are asked to, Chosen?”

“It’s alright, Colette.” Pasca reached out, reassuring her. It was unbearable, watching her anguish and uncertainty, watching her be torn apart into two. “You can do whatever it is she’s asking you to do. Please.”

Colette screwed her eyes shut and raised an arm, palm facing Pasca. Pink wings unfurled from her back, tears leaking from beneath her eyelids that shimmered in the pink light radiated by her wings, tiny balls of mana becoming visible around her.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. That was the sole thought looping through Colette’s head that she was transmitting, akin to a chant, as the mana spheres began to swirl.

And that was when Pasca felt it.

Channels of mana shutting off, like veins being squeezed in a vice, allowing nothing through.

Pain enveloped it, plunging Pasca into darkness. It felt like a rot had taken hold in its core and was slowly eating it alive. It was choking, despite it not needing air. Everything burned, for it was fundamentally wrong for the mana to be restricted. And without a pathway, the mana could do nothing but slam against an impregnable wall repeatedly, screaming in pain at the wrongness of it all.

“Enough, Chosen. This is a satisfying performance.”

Lutesse’s sharp voice cut through the haze of pain, bringing a stop to the chokehold. Mana began to flow freely again, the streams darting around in joy as they returned to their rightful journeys through the earth.

Pasca scrambled to cut through the darkness, clearing away the veil that clung to it just in time to catch the heartbreaking sight unfolding before it.

Colette had collapsed to her knees, fresh tears still streaming down her face. Her wings drooped behind her like dead butterflies falling through the sky, her hand clapped over her mouth like she was doing her utmost to not retch, whimpers falling from between her fingers.

For she must have shared Pasca’s pain, just as Pasca could feel the overwhelming guilt drowning Colette, wave after wave that forced her head under the tide.

What was this emotion that simmered within Pasca’s core? It was not the anger Pasca had once felt towards people, for that had been akin to a gentle wave, slowly chipping away at a stone. No, what it felt now was a tsunami, holding enough power to snap the top of the stone off.

Rage.

For the first time, Pasca was feeling rage. It was unthinkable for anyone to desire to hurt such a kind child as Colette.

The mana shared Pasca’s rage, infuriated that anyone would be impudent enough to try and play God. Pasca had to do its utmost reining in the streams of mana and preventing them from striking out in a blind rampage, to attempt to calm that which could not be held in check, for the only thing Pasca would be allowed to do was remove the direct threat.

And it refused to touch Colette. Perhaps that meant it had finally broken its vow.

Pasca did not care.

“It’s not your fault!” was what Pasca wanted to shout, to pound into Colette’s head. But Colette’s mind was locked behind a door, and all Pasca could do was knock on it with no answer. She almost appeared soulless, gaze focussed on nowhere as Lutesse dragged her to her feet and out into the fog, their silhouettes rapidly dissipating into nothingness.

Left in silence, Pasca could do nothing but muse.

How petty of the elves, to create and abuse a child just so they could hoard the mana for themselves, when mana was something meant to be freely given and graciously shared amongst all. They viewed Colette the same way they viewed Pasca - an object that did not feel, and was not worthy of compassion.

How cruel of the elves to treat Colette as nothing more than a puppet, to heartlessly tug on the strings of her soul and manipulate her to do their bidding, to push an immoral duty onto a child that only wished to be loved without any care of the weight that was crushing her.

How vile of the elves, to force Colette to shoulder the pain of the world, to force her to go against the wish she had inherited at birth. For she was just as much a child of the Great Trees as she was a creation of the elves, and if this kept up, she would shatter from the inside.

Pasca wanted to embrace her, but it had no arms. It wanted to protect her against the coldness of the elves, but it could not move. It wanted to tell her that it would be alright, but it had no power to influence events.

It was utterly helpless, and once again, it cursed that helplessness.

~~~

Colette did not return, even as Pasca waited and hoped. It did not lapse back into slumber in her absence, for it did not want to miss any moment in which she might return, where it could finally tell her that nothing was her fault. And if she chose to never return, Pasca would simply wait for all of eternity, for that was the only thing it could do.

With no one here, Pasca had to endure the silence again. In the past, it had yearned for what it did not have. Now that Pasca had experienced true companionship, even if only for a short while, a time that amounted to only a tiny blip among its many years of existence, it found that the loneliness had become much worse, the silence much louder and drowning out all. For one only learned the hole that someone would leave behind once they were gone, and could only know how precious something was once it had been lost.

It spent each day wondering if she was doing alright, worry eating away at its leaves. Was she with Lloyd? Her other half-elf friend that she had mentioned before? Pasca hoped so, hoped that there was someone there to cheer her up, to wipe away her tears and hold her in their arms. To do what Pasca could not.

Pasca also wondered when mana would choose to find another vessel, to finally leave it to rot and die. After all, it had voided their vow.

But mana said not a word, simply continuing its silent routine.

And so to pass the time, Pasca counted the seasons. Each one brought with it memories, and the memories brought with them fresh grief. A wound that would never scar over.

Seven winters passed, slow and arduous without anyone to pass them with. By now, the time in which Colette had been absent far surpassed the time in which she had frequented this clearing. Yet the memory of the little girl with the sweet words and kind smile persisted, refusing to fade, and Pasca continued to wait.

Until, finally, the silence was broken by hesitant footsteps.

~~~

Colette had spent many a moment with one foot in the fog, even before she met Pasca. There was a thread in the endless white that was invisible to all but her, tantalising and calling for her to follow it.

These days, she would stand at the boundary between clear air and fog, staring into it and unable to take another step. She’d been caught in this position multiple times by her friends - Genis, who just appeared confused, and Lloyd, who asked why she no longer went to visit Pasca. In response to that question, Colette could only shake her head and say that she was waiting to depart on her journey. Just another lie to add to the endless pile - a pile that might be higher than Pasca itself.

In truth, she yearned to return to the beautiful clearing that had once been her sanctuary, to go back and see the first soul she had ever connected with.

But she was chained down by guilt, the inky substance wrapping around her neck and choking her. She told herself that Pasca wouldn’t want to see her, not after what she’d done, but that was just an excuse. In truth, she was a coward, unable to face the reality that Pasca might despise her now. She couldn’t blame it for doing so, for their entire relationship had been built on a lie. A lie of omission, but a lie nonetheless.

The first time she had set foot in that clearing and met Pasca, it had been under orders. Lutesse had asked that Colette try and make her way through the fog. “And if you fail,” Lutesse had threatened her, “you will be replaced, Chosen.”

Fear had been what first drove her to stumble into the fog that no one had ever made it through. It was a common dare among the children of the village, a rite of passage, even, to enter the maze of white and lose all sense of direction. But she had held onto that thread desperately, following the dim light it emitted until she finally emerged.

The sight she had been met with was astounding - a gorgeous clearing wherein a tree that pierced the heavens stood, rays of sunlight filtering through its leaves. All assortment of creatures frequented the grass and the boughs of the Great Pasca Tree, which was far more majestic than even the legends passed in whispers from child to child proclaimed it to be.

The clearing had felt… strangely familiar, like she was returning to a home she had not been to in years, despite her having never left the Elven Village. Or perhaps not strange at all, considering the matter of her birth. Something Lutesse had gone to great pains to constantly remind her of - how she was crafted directly from the Great Tree itself, and owed her very existence to the elves.

Essentially, she had been going home.

She’d found herself calm again, all of her fears and worries forgotten, and had immediately taken to trying to befriend the Great Tree. But all the time she had spent with Pasca was but a facade. She had always known that she existed to ultimately harm Pasca, and yet she had continued to visit anyway, unable to stay away from the one place where her heart was at peace.

Even the time she had brought Lloyd to meet Pasca had been fabricated, forced into existence when Lutesse asked that she bring someone with her to further test her abilities. “And why not Lloyd? Lutesse had suggested, voice bitingly cold, though it had wavered slightly at the end. “It would be no loss for him to disappear.”

And with each visit, Colette only grew more disgusted with herself, that she would be so desperate to return each time. (It was the only place she could go.) Perhaps she might have been able to go through with the mission the elves had entrusted her with when she was still practising on an isolated piece of bark, disengaged entirely from the sins she was committing. But she couldn’t, not anymore. Not when she knew she would be condemning her friends, and not after feeling Pasca’s pain.

For on that final day in the clearing, Colette had felt like fire was burning through her veins. And that had been but a fraction of Pasca’s pain. She couldn’t do that, not again.

Which left her with her current dilemma. There were but two weeks left until she was to depart on her journey, and she had made her decision. She couldn’t go through with tuning the Great Trees, wouldn’t.

But she would still have to put up a performance, and repeating the mannerisms of that fateful day from years past with no explanation would only serve to strike terror into Pasca’s heart. She owed it an explanation, at the very least.

And an apology, for all that she had done, all the ways she had hurt Pasca. If Pasca hated her… Well, that was justified, and she would accept that.

Determined, Colette took a deep breath, plunging back into the familiar white.

~~~

The clearing was much the same as she remembered, even after seven years. The same trees made up the perimeter, perhaps a little taller than before; the same nests lined Pasca’s branches at the same positions, filled with new eggs that would soon welcome hatchlings; the flowers she had once planted were still in the same spots, new flowers having sprouted to form a grove of colour. So many of her memories had been made here, as was her first experience of happiness.

Colette could feel Pasca’s presence brushing against her mind as she made her way to the middle of the clearing, the Great Tree remaining silent as it watched her. It almost felt like a mirror of the day she had first met Pasca, if not for the trepidation in her heart. The air itself seemed to weigh on her, the animals coming to a standstill to stare at her with inquisitive eyes as well.

The passage of time was easily demarcated by the height she had gained and the hair that now reached the middle of her back, the new clothes she wore. Did Pasca even recognise her? See her as the same Colette? Or did it see nothing but a stranger, or worse, a sworn enemy?

Colette came to a stop, taking a shaky breath as she tried to ready words. But what words would ever be enough? How could what she had done ever be forgiven? Pasca had been scarred from past betrayal, and yet she had heartlessly betrayed it again, broken its trust like glass, into a thousand shards.

“I’m sorry,” was what came out of her mouth as she fell to her knees, her heart hurting like it was being stabbed by the jagged shards of her own making. She covered her face with her hands to hide the tears that had started to stream down it, the tears that she had only cried within the safe confines of her bed, curled up and miserable, unable to share her grief with anyone. “I’m so, so sorry. I know you might never be able to forgive me, but that’s all I can say. I’m sorry...”

“Get up, Colette. Please...”

Pasca’s voice was gentle. Far gentler than she deserved. What she deserved was poisoned curses and stabbing words, and even that would not be enough to punish her for her sins.

Still, she did as it said, standing with her head bowed and her hands clasped. She had told herself not to get her hopes up, yet the flame of hope had been rekindled.

“Stop apologising, Colette. What happened was not your fault. Your hand was forced. I have never blamed you, so how could I ever forgive you?”

“Really?” Colette whispered.

“Yes, silly child. I could never blame you for anything.”

An overwhelming sense of relief washed over her, even as the tears came on stronger. She rubbed at them with her arms, but they wouldn’t stop. Despite the bravado she had tried to instil in herself before, she knew she would not have survived the realisation that she had lost her first friend. Her heart would have broken beyond return, unable to be patched back together in the same haphazard manner she employed every night.

“I’m sorry. I can’t stop crying…”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Colette. Take as much time as you need. I’m just glad to see you again. So… How are you?” Pasca asked, voice rising into a mischievous lilt by the end.

Colette couldn’t help but giggle at that. Her own words had been turned against her, huh?

“Good,” she replied, smiling. “I’m good.”

~~~

Pasca was more than happy to listen to Colette’s plan. It would have been happy to listen to anything Colette had to say, for it was just glad to hear her voice again, to see that she was safe.

Her plan wasn’t the most comprehensive, but her resolve was clear, spilling over in her voice, in the shine of her eyes, in the clench of her fists. Her desire to prevent the world from getting harmed, to allow everyone a place to live out their lives.

She apologised for having to leave so soon after reuniting, but Pasca reassured her that it would be fine. She should do what was necessary - both for the good of the world and for herself.

On the day of Colette’s departure on her so-called journey, everyone seemed to buy the falsehood. No one - not Lloyd, not Genis, not Lutesse, raised a single protest or question. No one caught the mischievous smile playing on Colette’s face. Not a single eyebrow was raised as Colette retracted her wings, proclaiming the tuning done. Even though Lutesse’s steely gaze did not leave the girl’s back, the elf remained silent.

Colette had pulled it off, and Pasca could not be any prouder.

She had grown so much, into a girl who grasped determination in her hand and who held kindness in her heart.

“Colette,” Pasca called out, wanting to say its piece before Colette left for what it knew would be a long time, perhaps even longer than the four winters that had elapsed without her. “I wish you the best of luck. And thank you, for everything. Goodbye.”

Colette, in return, left Pasca with a smile, a wave, and a promise.

“No. Thank you, for everything. I’ll return, one day! So… this isn’t a goodbye, it’s a see you again. And then I’ll tell you about everything I saw! I’ll be your eyes and ears, and I’ll experience this beautiful world for you!”

“I promise.”

Pasca watched as Colette heeded Lloyd’s call, running over to grab his hand and leaving the clearing together. Pasca thought it understood, now, how parents must have felt, watching their children leave into the world.

The fear, but also the joy, from seeing them do their best to achieve their dream.

~~~

Even though Pasca was left alone again, it was not lonely. Its parting with Colette was not sad, for it believed in the promise she had made. If she said she would return, then she would, no matter how many years it took.

Pasca once again went back to counting seasons, but it also began to note down all the interesting things that happened in its surroundings - how a new species of birds with colourful plumage began to pass in the skies over it, how the single family of squirrels had expanded into an entire colony. For Colette would no doubt have countless stories to tell when she returned, and Pasca would like to match that.

Otherwise, nothing much happened. Apart from the occasional message from the other Great Trees, talking of a child who had charmed them. It was just like Colette, to worm her way into the hearts of everyone else as well.

Things had gotten rough when Earhart had reported that Lutesse had shown up, and Pasca had spent an entire year panicking, only to finally calm down when it learned from the other trees that Colette was fine.

It appeared that Pasca’s faith in Colette’s friends was not misplaced, that its decision to leave Colette in their company had not been a bad one. After all, Pasca could tell her friends loved her, and believed they would protect her. The only other thing Pasca could do was cheer her on, and believe in her completely.

So Pasca waited.

And waited.

And waited…

~~~

It was countless years later, so many that Pasca had lost count, when someone stepped foot into the clearing.

That someone was not a girl, not anymore. She was a woman now, the familiar tips of pointed ears poking out of her short hair, a serene smile on her face. There were still remnants of sorrow in those blue eyes, but they were far overpowered by the bright happiness found there. Her fingers were intertwined tightly with that of the human she had once brought here, the two of them standing close together. It was clear to Pasca that they found comfort in each other, and that Colette had found a home in another.

Yet she had returned to this clearing anyway. And perhaps home was not a single place, but every moment spent with a loved one. No matter if she considered this place home or not, Colette was welcome here anytime.

Colette stepped away from Lloyd, walking towards Pasca. The grass crunched under her feet, her hair swayed in the breeze, and she did a little twirl as she approached, the child shining through and reminding Pasca so strongly of their first meeting, long, long ago.

“Welcome back, Colette.”

Colette opened her arms and wrapped them around the bark in her best approximation of a hug. She barely covered an eighth of the trunk, and it tickled, making Pasca let out a chuckle.

There was so much to catch up on, so much to say…

So many memories to make.

But Pasca knew the exact words that would soon fall from Colette’s lips, the words it had heard so many times that it had been engraved into its memory.

“Mm. It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Pasca?” Colette let out a little chuckle of her own, looking up at the topmost leaves with a grin lighting up her face.

“How are you?”

~fin~

#tales of symphonia #tales of crestoria #lloyd irving #colette brunel #lutesse crestoria #great pasca tree #lloyd side story spoilers #everyone always asks where is tree but not how is tree

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