RP with howling_storm
The mid-day sun glowed overhead, bright and warm enough to lift a little of the winter chill from the air. Now and then darker patches drifted along the grass, long shadows thrown down by passing clouds. The tops of the pines stirred gently- there was little breeze and the air was still and calm, smelling of warm grass and straw and sap. >>
It was perfect for shooting. He would barely have to adjust his aim for the crosswind, Clive thought to himself as he trudged down the long path leading down an outcropping of secluded beam-and-plaster buildings. Someone had told him there was a dojo this way... had it been that knight? Sturm was slung under his arm, the stock resting beneath his hand and the long muzzle angled upwards. Cartridges clinked in his pocket. His black cloak swung around his legs. In the distance he could see a dirt path worn into the grass, and a cluster of straw targets. That had to be it. Hopefully whoever was in charge of the place wouldn't mind him mangling a wooden target or eight, he thought moodily. You couldn't pull bullets out of one, and things tended to, well... splinter when they were struck by a projectile like that.
Elza slowly raised her right arm and closed one eye, doing her best to mentally go to that 'place of nothingness' she always went to when she had to make a precise and accurate shot. She was taught that once you are at that place when you fire, you would rarely miss. She noticed that her right arm wavered slightly, and a part of her focus was lost in trying to keep it still. She tried again for five seconds more before she decided to try the other one just as a warmup exercise. She raised her left arm, steadied it with no trouble and fired Mond [which honestly, was an amazing gun once it was properly repaired], the bullet striking the target and shattering it into splinters. It had been well worth the trip to Vinay del Zexay to pick up more targets for Juan.
The smart 'crack!' of gunfire rang into the sky. Tiny sparrows startled upwards from the tops of the pine trees, darting away in a rush of wings. On the ground below them, Clive's heart nearly stopped. He halted dead in his tracks and stood perfectly still, staring down the path at the pleasant, enclosed little yard where the targets where arranged. There was only one object in the world made a sound like that, and he was carrying one of them over his shoulder.
He saw one of the wooden targets crack with a tuft of splinters. To the unaware it might have looked as if it had simple burst on its own, but Clive knew better. He knew what had struck it. Then he saw the familiar blonde head and the white cloak, and he drew in a sharp breath. So, she... she was here as well. He steadied himself and stepped forward. "Good shot," he called out softly when he had padded closer, his boots crunching on the dirt.
Elza didn't turn at the voice - she would know in a thousand lifetimes whose it was. Slowly she lowered Mond, and exhaled as she turned to see him walking towards her. "Thank you..." Her voice trailed off. "I...guess you came out to give the new targets a go?" Elza mentally chastised herself for not coming up with a better conversation starter, but things between the two of them couldn't be any more awkward if she tried hard at it.
Clive walked towards her slowly, while resisting the urge to turn smartly on one heel and hurry back in the direction he had come from. This was- wrong, but there she was, alive and standing in the sunlight and looking back at him. He silently cursed himself for the cowardly thought and drew up nearby. "Y- yes," he said as he unslung Sturm from his shoulder. He tried to look her in the faces but his eyes wouldn't lift. "Someone told me there was a place like this down that path... I thought I'd see if there were archery targets I could use. Have... you been here very long...?"
Elza shook her head. "I just got here myself." It was unusual, not just to see Clive, but to see him so...unsteady? She remembered him as more sure and confident than that. "I just picked up the targets only yesterday, so..." She watched him, her vision still trying to reconcile the Clive she had known before with what was now standing in front of her.
There was a 'click' as Clive unclipped the sling from Sturm's stock and then dropped it into the worn grass at his feet. He lifted his head and squinted down the range at the targets he could see there. He held the rifle upright in one hand and raised the other to his brow, to shield his eyes. The target that Elza had already shot was tufted with splinters, split nearly in half. "I see," he said, avoiding her gaze. "Do you... do you mind if I join you? I could use the practice, or my arm's gonna get rusty..."
Elza nodded. "I don't mind. With the way things happen here at the castle...it's best that we remain prepared." She was beginning to wonder why his eyes always averted hers, but shrugged it off for the time being. "Give me a moment and I'll set up a few extra ones." She reholstered Mond and walked to the far end of the field to set up some more of the wooden targets.
With the butt of the rifle's stock resting against his thigh and the muzzle pointed upwards Clive threw back his cloak and reached for the belt he kept strapped across his chest. There was a pouch there, clipped in place, with cartridges, long brass cases with a sharp bullet-tips. His fingers fumbled through them as he reached in to tug out a handful of cartridges. He growled at his clumsiness, but he felt odd, shaky. How many times had he practiced shooting targets with Elza in the past, in a much darker place than this sunny, grassy range? It was all familiar. But different now. And after the last conversation they had had, that night in the tavern...
"Thanks," he called out as he watched her stride across the field. He fingered the brass cases in his hand and groped for something to say. "Do you come here often? To practice, I mean. Do you... still shoot a lot these days...?"
Elza had heard his question as she came walking back towards him, and she nodded. "When I'm not injured. I've needed to come out here more because of my right arm. It's not as strong as it used to be..." Her voice trailed off as she remembered the battle against Luca and the golden wolves and how much time she had spent in the infirmary recovering. "Usually I'm by myself, because nobody else has guns but me." She smiled wanly.
Clive couldn't help but feel a stir of pride at that. No, that was true- of all the people who seemed to live here at this castle, they were the only ones to possess weapons like Sturm, Stern and Mond. Just the two of them. No one else.
He snapped back the bolt of his rifle and thumbed cartridges into the breech, clink clink clink, careful to keep the muzzle pointed downward. His fingers worked mechanically, and when the cartridges were neatly loaded Clive pushed the bolt forward and locked it with a twist, snap. Meanwhile, he regarded her with a frown as she drew near, his curiosity overcoming his awkwardness. "What happened to your arm?" he said. "How did you injure it?"
"Luca Blight happened." Elza frowned at the memory. "Never mind the fact that he's crazy and is allowed to live here, but in the midst of his madness, he unleashed a flurry of Golden Wolves on the castle and its residents. I and some others here went out to fight them, and one of them took a nice chunk out of my arm." She carefully undid her cloak and once removed, held out her right arm which was scarred from the elbow to her shoulder. "If you look close enough, you can still see the teeth marks."
Clive tried to ignore the abrupt thump in his chest when the blonde woman extended her bare arm. He gripped Sturm and leaned in to gingerly examine the ugly scarring that twisted across her skin. When he squinted a little he realised that he really could make out teeth marks, furrowed there by huge fangs. "That bastard," he said, and scowled. "So, Blight's alive and is here as well? I remember him. I hope you got in a good shot at him, to pay him back for it."
"I had lost too much blood - it was all I could do to help defeat the wolves. But trust me, if I had even one shot against Luca, I'd have taken it and made it count." Elza looked at the targets downfield and nodded, more to herself than anything, satisfied that they were placed properly. "One has to take the good with the bad, I guess. There are ways that he is kept in check, and to this day I don't know why he raged out of control like that." She motioned for Clive to go ahead and take his shot first.
Clive was still frowning as he turned himself and squared his feet off in the grass, assuming a firing stance. He lifted the rifle and wedged the stock against his shoulder, sighting along the long barrel with one eye. In his mind he pictured Elza bleeding, red gore streaming down her arm- and then as he stared down the distant target he pictured Highland's mad prince. "He'd better not try anything like it again," he muttered, and squeezed the trigger.
Sturm cracked. The bullet didn't pock a hole into the target. It simply tore a chunk off the edge of it, which tumbled upwards within a cloud of flying splinters. A moment later a patch of fresh white wood suddenly erupted against the trunk of one of the pine trees further back, marking the place where the bullet was finally stopped. Clive cringed and lowered the rifle. He'd been aiming for the centre. "I- I guess my arm really is a bit rusty," he said, stepping back so that she could take her turn.
Stepping forward, Elza tried again with Stern. She raised it towards the same target, trying to focus herself enough to hold her arm steady, but it was frustrating as it would stop, then slowly wobble. Anyone else would have blamed it on the wind, but Elza knew that she had to be a sure shot in even the [worst] conditions someone could dream up. She placed her finger on the trigger, and felt the resistance of it for the briefest of moments. She knew that past a certain point, that one has to commit to the shot and that you can't take the action back, and she felt the gun seemingly explode underneath of her hands as she fired it. She was aiming for Clive's target but because of the slight wobble in her arm, she skirted the right side of the target. She didn't lower her arm until she heard the sharp crack of her bullet hitting one of the trees behind the target. She shook her head quietly, not wanting to blame her injury for her lack of accuracy.
When Elza had turned her attention towards the target Clive had taken advantage of her distraction and used the opportunity to wordlessly study her profile. It was... it was [her], just as he remembered her, the same sweep of blonde hair, the same eyes, the same scar stitched across the bridge of her nose, the same look of concentration... for a moment he could almost imagine that he had gone back into the past and not the future. Only the sun and the rustle of the grass and the smell of the pine needles reminded him that this was nothing like the bleak Tower they'd once called home.
Clive winced when he heard her bullet strike the tree. "It's all right," he said hastily, stepping forward again with Sturm resting on his shoulder. "Don't worry. We'll... we can get the strength back into your arm. We'll practice, together. It'll be just like it was before. I'll help you, Elza..."
She watched him approach and she saw a flicker of the Clive that had grown up with her in the Tower. She wished that she still had that flicker inside of her but the lives she had lived had shown her too much. "Clive..." She looked up at him as he approached. "It's...not like it was before. Nothing is." Some part of her twinged to say it, but she couldn't lie to him. Not when, as Guildmates, as friends, as former lovers, there was a bond of trust that she felt not even time would change.
Clive slowed at that, then padded to a stop, suddenly uncertain. The light in his eyes faltered, and inside his hood his face fell. "What... what do you mean...?" he said, his confusion evident in his voice. He spread his free hand, gesturing aimlessly, his expression serious. "But... you're alive...! And I'm here now too, I know about everything that happened with you and Kelly, and the duel, and I know you're no traitor. I won't chase you like that again, never. I'm not here to kill you this time. We can start over again, just the two of us, and when I explain to the Guild that you never betrayed them and expose the Elders responsible for the crime, and take Sturm as my witness..."
"Did you hear me?" Elza's tone was a little more emphatic. "It's not the same. There's no going back to the Guild and explaining this to them. They want to come and get us and there's nothing we can do to change that short of killing them as they come. And it can't [be] just the two of us, Clive." She stopped herself short because she realized exactly what slope she was going down, but even then she realized that it was too late to stop. "There's not the two of us anymore, Clive. I...I have someone else now and he loves me and..." Elza finally looked away, knowing that she didn't want to watch Clive think about what she had just said.
The colour drained from Clive's face, even as his eyes grew wide. Without thinking he stepped backwards, his boot crunching in the grass. Suddenly all thought of practicing shooting, or of Kelly and the Guild had gone flying from his head. His fingers tightened around the stock of the rifle in his hand. "W- what...?" he stammered, looking stunned. "What... what do you mean, you have someone else? You mean that... you...?"
She couldn't look up at him, but the words had to be said. "It's true. I...I had to go on, Clive." She finally felt brave enough to look up at him and he was as white as a sheet, his eyes widened in disbelief. "I got my life back, and...it would be stupid if I didn't live it. I don't...oh..." Elza felt her jaw clench as she felt her words begin to fail her.
Clive stared at her, speechless. It was if a big hole had suddenly opened in the earth beneath him. His stomach sank. She had- there was someone else...? But... ever since childhood, it had always been just the three of them, he and Kelly and Elza. There had been other children in the Tower, other apprentices, but they had all died, in pain and in exhaustion, the life worn right out of them. Only their little band of three had made it through the training to become Knight Class Gunners. They had been all there was left. They had no one else but each other. They hadn't [needed] anyone else.
But now...
A tiny flame of jealousy flared. Clive set his jaw. "Who... who is it?" he said, with a fierce glare around the range. "Is it someone here, at this castle...?"
Elza froze. She didn't want to say any more about it, she had done enough here and she couldn't take back the words. All she could do was nod an answer to his question.
Clive straightened, gripping Sturm tightly. He inhaled, fighting back his temper. "I- I see," he finally mumbled, when he didn't feel as stung and likely to snap out a reply. Someone here, right on these very grounds. That narrowed it down. He eyed her a little sullenly. "And... does he treat you well? Do you really love him back...?"
"I do." The words weren't as loud as she would have wanted them, but they were sure, and steadier than her right arm had been earlier. She wanted to tell him that it was never her intention to hurt him, but the words were stuck. She hated to see him hurt - and she had always been that way - but now was far worse than even she imagined.
At that, Clive fell silent. He tried to digest it, but his mind felt as if it were seething. There was someone else. It wasn't just the two of them after all, not even after all they had done together before Kelly had died. There was a third again, but it wasn't the man he'd considered a brother. It was someone he didn't know. An outsider.
"If you're happy with him, I'm glad," he muttered, his gaze cutting to the side. The words felt as if they were sticking in his throat. His eyes narrowed. "So... who is it...?"
"Mathiu. Mathiu Silverberg." She watched Clive carefully to measure his reaction.
Clive jerked his head around. He gaped at her, for a moment to astonished to be angry. "Mathiu Silverberg?" he exclaimed. His eyes widened. "The famous strategist, from Toran...?"
"The same." Elza finally looked away from Clive again.
'But he's dead...!' almost blurted out Clive. He caught himself at the last minute, and his mouth flattening into a line instead. No, people came back to life in this place. It had been amazing, when he'd first realised it. Now it was just a mixed blessing. He watched the blonde woman turn her face away. For an instant Clive felt a stab of guilt, but then it was gone again. He turned abruptly, his black cloak swaying with him. He glared at the distant targets. One was missing a large chunk of wood from the top corner, where he'd missed his shot. The damage was ragged, bristling. "I should get back to practicing," he said, his voice low. "I've gotta... fix my aim."
Elza thought about reaching her arm out to comfort him - it was so hard for her to do that with anyone else, short of Mathiu and him - but she thought better of it and nodded. "All the same, Clive...I think I should be going." She reholstered Stern and quietly walked behind him to leave. As she passed him by, it slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it: "I'm sorry..."
Clive already had Sturm set back to his shoulder, one eye shut as he drew a bead on the target from down the long barrel of the gun. He heard the leathery 'shuck' of her weapon being holstered and her footsteps in the grass behind him, and then the soft sound of her voice. Without thinking he tensed, his finger tightening against the tripper. "It's- all right," he muttered, without looking away. Guilt warred with hurt and anger. He... he needed to think a while.
Elza paused long enough to hear him respond, then setting her shoulders squarely as she could, she left the range. She pondered going to the tavern for a vodka / seven, but she shook her head - drinking was not going to fix this. She settled for going over to the lake to just sit and watch the birds for a while.
Behind her the loud retort of Sturm's firing rang out over the tops of the pine trees. There was a crackle of wood an instant later, announcing the demise of another one of Juan's new targets.