Drabble: Final Fantasy Tactics
A small snippet I dug up from a pile of unfinished works - this one seems half complete I suppose(?). Aaaaah the woes of school work...
Characters/Pairing(s): Ramza, mentions of Alma and Zalbaag
Rating: G
Title: March
Warnings? -
Summary: He continues walking with a heavy heart and his ever intricate mind.
Ramza isn’t concerned anymore as to the direction of where he’s bound for, the destination of said direction, nor whether there is anyone still waiting for him upon his arrival or not. He doesn’t expect anyone anymore because he has already come into terms with the fact that he will forever be branded a heretic to the kingdom of Ivalice, and that in all likelihood, tales of his own perils and strife will never be fully conveyed to the public at any point in time.
At times when his mind strays along these lines, it does impart his heart with some sadness that despite his many battles and clashes against antagonists of all kinds, his role in history will still be as miniscule as a mere speck of sand from the endless planes of the Zeklaus Desert, as dully significant as a lone star lost amongst a myriad of constellations within the nightsky’s endless expanses.
He knows that Alma would have scorned him for such a negatively weighted introspection of him, and yet he also knows that these interpretations of himself are likely to be the most accurate.
‘True self knowledge can only be attained from thyself,’ he recalls a contemplative Zalbaag having told him once on a warm Cancer morning, whilst shinning his rapier in the quiet dew meadows of their once homely manor garden. And in spite of himself, his lips quirk to form a bittersweet smile upon chapped lips.
He lightly tugs the reigns of Boco once again, and it is with a small squawk from the beast and the swift movement of large sturdy talons that he sets off again towards a boundless journey, in pursuit of another sunset dipping over a glowing horizon upon plains tinted in fading ruby-red sunlight. If he could classify himself as anything, he would label himself as the lone traveler; continuously journeying despite retrospective thoughts that constantly plague his mind.
But at such times, he also thinks back to his own exploits, his acquaintances and allies, his won battles, his current liberation, his father’s echoing words that continue to drive him forwards till this day.
‘Stray not from the true path. You will know the path you must walk; a Beoulve can walk no other.’
If anything, these will be the words that will be inscribed upon his grave upon his eventual demise at the conclusion of all his journeys - when he has (hopefully) fully come to terms with himself.
Characters/Pairing(s): Ramza, mentions of Alma and Zalbaag
Rating: G
Title: March
Warnings? -
Summary: He continues walking with a heavy heart and his ever intricate mind.
Ramza isn’t concerned anymore as to the direction of where he’s bound for, the destination of said direction, nor whether there is anyone still waiting for him upon his arrival or not. He doesn’t expect anyone anymore because he has already come into terms with the fact that he will forever be branded a heretic to the kingdom of Ivalice, and that in all likelihood, tales of his own perils and strife will never be fully conveyed to the public at any point in time.
At times when his mind strays along these lines, it does impart his heart with some sadness that despite his many battles and clashes against antagonists of all kinds, his role in history will still be as miniscule as a mere speck of sand from the endless planes of the Zeklaus Desert, as dully significant as a lone star lost amongst a myriad of constellations within the nightsky’s endless expanses.
He knows that Alma would have scorned him for such a negatively weighted introspection of him, and yet he also knows that these interpretations of himself are likely to be the most accurate.
‘True self knowledge can only be attained from thyself,’ he recalls a contemplative Zalbaag having told him once on a warm Cancer morning, whilst shinning his rapier in the quiet dew meadows of their once homely manor garden. And in spite of himself, his lips quirk to form a bittersweet smile upon chapped lips.
He lightly tugs the reigns of Boco once again, and it is with a small squawk from the beast and the swift movement of large sturdy talons that he sets off again towards a boundless journey, in pursuit of another sunset dipping over a glowing horizon upon plains tinted in fading ruby-red sunlight. If he could classify himself as anything, he would label himself as the lone traveler; continuously journeying despite retrospective thoughts that constantly plague his mind.
But at such times, he also thinks back to his own exploits, his acquaintances and allies, his won battles, his current liberation, his father’s echoing words that continue to drive him forwards till this day.
‘Stray not from the true path. You will know the path you must walk; a Beoulve can walk no other.’
If anything, these will be the words that will be inscribed upon his grave upon his eventual demise at the conclusion of all his journeys - when he has (hopefully) fully come to terms with himself.