Doll - Chapter 1
Chapter 1
The harsh winter was much too terrible for Mrs. Strife this year. Having a child to care for and supplies that wouldn't last the rest of the week even for herself, Mrs. Strife felt that she had no choice. The others in Nibelheim wouldn't help her; she knew that. Mrs. Strife decided to take the gamble.
She was going to ask the "Demon Woman" for help.
The natives of Nibelheim passed down stories from many generations ago about the Demon Woman. Mostly everybody thought they were urban legends to scare anyone away from trying to climb up Mt. Nibel, though Mt. Nibel was terrifying enough with its dragons, wolves, and other monsters that were very, very real. The legends of the Demon Woman all said just about the exact same thing: Somewhere in Mt. Nibel lived the Demon Woman, who rarely came down to Nibelheim and apparently hated humans. She could take the form of anybody, and that was one reason why nobody in Nibelheim took kindly to foreigners.
The Demon Woman was Mrs. Strife's only hope. Though she knew she was going to have to pay the Demon Woman back somehow, Mrs. Strife decided she would get through that obstacle when it came up.
The fact that it wasn't even winter made things worse. If the weather was this bad now, the whole town would probably be colder and whiter than Icicle Inn by early December!
Mrs. Strife took what she had to bundle up her child and herself, doing the best she could to keep her baby warm. When she deemed the both of them ready, she set out. Food wasn't packed because Mrs. Strife didn't plan on being out for very long, and it would only serve to further encumber her.
Now at the start of the Mt. Nibel trail, Mrs. Strife took a deep breath, tightened her hold around the bulky bundle of fur in her arms, and started the journey.
It was a treacherous and confusing walk, though it felt more like a climb. Mrs. Strife relied on trial and error to get her through. Many times did she have to backtrack or turn around. Going through every tunnel felt like walking in circles; every corner felt like a dead end. The cold was much worse up on the mountain. Nibelheim was seeing its first flakes - Mt. Nibel almost had the equivalent of a blizzard. The tunnels helped with the cold somewhat, since the chilling wind couldn't attack them there. Mrs. Strife, though not very comfortable with the weather, considered herself very lucky. She hadn't run into any creatures (yet, she told herself) and was very glad for that. She desperately wanted to check on her child, but didn't dare to uncover him. It wasn't worth the risk.
Though her arms and legs started to burn with fatigue, Mrs. Strife persevered. That one hope burned in her, keeping her from turning back to Nibelheim. The hope that she would find the Demon Woman.
Mrs. Stife turned back and took the middle path (she had hit a dead end again; stalactites and stalagmites divided the cave). What she saw next nearly took her breath away.
A Mako spring, completely natural, flowed in the near center of a cave that had its walls and most of the floor covered in what appeared to be tree roots. The Mako spring itself was a beautiful and extremely rare sight. The Mako being formed completely naturally was what made it rare. Normally, the only Mako found would be the condensed kind that came from reactors. A bright green light emanated from the fountain, illuminating the whole cave. Towards the top of the fountain were little rainbow lights, which resembled a lighter hued version of materia. Mrs. Strife couldn't help but stare in wonder.
What felt like mere seconds later, Mrs. Strife found herself breathing heavily, and her trembling legs gave out. Now on her knees, Mrs. Strife tried to draw out any strength she might have had to lift herself upright, but she had none.
I've... failed... she thought to herself. There was never any guarantee that I would've found her. I have only myself to blame for trying. She hung her head in defeat. Now she and the child were going to die in the cold. Even if she stayed home, at least it would've been warm for a little while. This whole journey was frigid enough to freeze the soul from the very start, it seemed.
Now that her mind was taken off of walking, Mrs. Strife turned her attention to the baby in her arms. She realized that she had not heard a single sound from the bundle, nor had she felt any movement whatsoever.
Fearing the worst, Mrs. Strife wept. She let a sob escape her.
"Did you honestly think it was that worthless to come out all the way up here? I completely doubt very many would even try; certainly not anybody from Nibelheim," a voice nearby said. Mrs. Stife looked up and saw a strange figure.
The figure had a female humanoid appearance, though with pale gray skin and a light purple eye (almost pink), the other eye covered by silver hair with a dark tint to it. The pupil of the eye appeared to be slitted, like a cat's.
Hope returned, doing a little cheer in Mrs. Strife's mind. However, she couldn't be sure. It was a trick, wasn't it? Something her fatigued mind came up with? It wouldn't be a surprise if she was now hallucinating. The Demon Woman could've been part of her imagination.
"Though many would be insulted when called a demon, I am flattered. It shows that the cowards are still afraid of me, even after so long," the woman said with a smirk.
It must be my imagination. How else would my thoughts have been read? Mrs. Strife thought. Well, if the Demon Woman can change her shape, she can read minds, I suppose.
"I can't make it..." Mrs. Strife said between breaths. "Neither of us will be able to live past this winter, and I actually attempted this-this quest. It was a stupid thing to do, and now I'm losing it..." If Mrs. Strife was seeing things, then it wouldn't be out of the ordinary to talk to herself.
"I'm surprised you have been able to come this far and still live," the woman finally said with a look of amusement on her face. "Come with me. It is best that you two are warmed up, especially the young one."
Mrs. Strife used a bit of recovered energy to pull herself up and tried to follow as the woman began to walk. The woman, seeing her difficulty, took hold of Mrs. Strife's right arm and supported her. It was all a dream to Mrs. Strife. She expected to wake up in her bed, back in Nibelheim, soon.
The woman was covered in a black cloak that ended at her ankles, Mrs. Strife observed. Looking at her heels, Mrs. Strife assumed she wore boots. The woman kept looking forward, ignoring Mrs. Strife.
The woman led Mrs. Strife through a path she had never noticed the whole time she was there. It had many twists and turns. Most of the other paths were ignored. Though it was a dream, Mrs. Strife was glad she had someone to lead her.
Eventually, they were out, near one of the mountain peaks. The wind and snow blew harder than before. The ability to breathe was a bit of a miracle, since the air was thinner.
The woman lead Mrs. Strife to a wooden house. She opened the door and motioned for Mrs. Strife to enter.
"Take off your shoes and sit."
Mrs. Strife did as she was told, then sat on the long couch, grateful for the rest. It felt like a few minutes, but already Mrs. Strife could feel her fingers and legs again. This dream feels awfully realistic, Mrs. Strife observed.
Mrs. Strife unbundled her child, holding her breath. Her baby was cold - but not freezing - and breathing faintly. Mrs. Strife let out a breath of relief. Reassured that her son was alive, she then took in her surroundings. Across from her was a TV, sitting on top of what looked like a set of drawers. She heard clinking to the left of her and turned to see a kitchen. The woman was at the oven, which was to the right of the fridge but separated by a counter. The sink was against the wall to the left of the woman, counters filling in the empty spaces. Behind Mrs. Strife was a table with eight chairs. The only thing that "separated" the rooms was the floor. Close to the door, a section of the floor appeared to be made of concrete and was lower than that of the rest of the house. Carpet covered the living room, wood covered the dining, and tile covered the kitchen floor. A nice way to distinguish the different areas, Mrs. Strife though with awe.
A delicious aroma wafted from the kitchen. Mrs. Strife then realized that she had not eaten in quite a while. She stood up, cradling her child closer to her person, and looked towards the kitchen. The woman held a steaming bowl and waved to a chair, gesturing for Mrs. Strife to sit.
Mrs. Strife gently set her child on the table, now leaving his face uncovered. The woman placed a bowl of soup and a spoon in front of Mrs. Strife, then sat across from her.
This is no dream, Mrs. Strife silently realized after the first spoonful. The soup was delicious, warming her throat and stomach. Mrs. Strife ate quickly (though not messily), not stopping to try to make conversation. It didn't seem to matter to the woman.
Mrs. Strife place the spoon in the empty bowl, pushed the bowl slightly forward, leaned back in the chair, and cradled her baby. Her baby felt much warmer and seemed to be breathing steadily.
The woman didn't move and instead said, "Tell me now: what exactly do you need from me?" Mrs. Strife noticed that her voice had a strange sound to it, like she had lived long and knew much.
"There was no chance of survival for us back there," Mrs. Strife began. "I wasn't able to tend the garden, nor was I able to buy enough food for the winter. I wasn't able to do much of anything in my condition, actually. My husband died of an illness the year before, and it was almost impossible to do anything by myself. I don't know how I made it through. I knew there was a risk starting this..." She paused for the right word. "...quest, but I took that risk, hoping to find help. Nobody would've helped us back there, I knew that. But - please understand! - I am doing this more for him than for myself. He only turned a month old four days ago. He hasn't learned the joy of living yet.
"So I came to ask you for help. It doesn't matter how," Mrs. Strife finished.
"I am willing to let you stay. However -" the woman said when Mrs. Strife perked up. "- there is a price."
"What is it?" Mrs. Strife asked. "If it's possible for me to do it, I will."
"A simple thing to do. All I ask for is the child in your arms."
No! Mrs. Strife screamed in her mind. She did not want to give up her baby, the only loved one she had left. But, her mind reasoned, there must be a reason for this.
"What will happen to him? Will he be safe?"
"Of course. I will allow you to stay here, in my home, and raise him until his fourth birthday. When that day comes, you will have to give him to me and get ready to go back to Nibelheim. You will still have my assistance with anything you might need."
It wasn't too bad. She and, more importantly, her child will be safe. But there were a few more things...
"Will I be able to see him after the four years are up?"
"Yes. Every so often he will be brought down to your home for a visit," was the answer.
"One last thing." She hesitated, hoping her next question didn't come out rude.
"May I ask why you want him?"
"My reasons are partly selfish. That is all you will hear from me."
Mrs. Strife didn't want to, but the other choice was much worse.
"...I agree to your terms."
"It is done." The Deal was sealed.
The woman took the soup bowl to wash. Afterward, she placed it in the cupboard and the spoon in the drawer.
"May I have your name?" The woman had turned to ask.
"Strife. My last name," Mrs. Strife said.
"One with troubles. Sadly ironic."
"May I have yours?" Again, Mrs. Strife hoped that it didn't come out as rude.
"Jenova. It is my true name," the woman answered with a look that said she wasn't offended at all. "And the child's?"
"Cloud."
Notes:
Idea conceived: 2012年12月18日（火）
Started: 2013年1月15日（火）
Finished: 2013年1月17日（木）
Uploaded: 2013年1月20日（日）
I always thought, in my imaginings, that Jenova sounded like Moro from the English version of Princess Mononoke.
Next Chapter
The harsh winter was much too terrible for Mrs. Strife this year. Having a child to care for and supplies that wouldn't last the rest of the week even for herself, Mrs. Strife felt that she had no choice. The others in Nibelheim wouldn't help her; she knew that. Mrs. Strife decided to take the gamble.
She was going to ask the "Demon Woman" for help.
The natives of Nibelheim passed down stories from many generations ago about the Demon Woman. Mostly everybody thought they were urban legends to scare anyone away from trying to climb up Mt. Nibel, though Mt. Nibel was terrifying enough with its dragons, wolves, and other monsters that were very, very real. The legends of the Demon Woman all said just about the exact same thing: Somewhere in Mt. Nibel lived the Demon Woman, who rarely came down to Nibelheim and apparently hated humans. She could take the form of anybody, and that was one reason why nobody in Nibelheim took kindly to foreigners.
The Demon Woman was Mrs. Strife's only hope. Though she knew she was going to have to pay the Demon Woman back somehow, Mrs. Strife decided she would get through that obstacle when it came up.
The fact that it wasn't even winter made things worse. If the weather was this bad now, the whole town would probably be colder and whiter than Icicle Inn by early December!
Mrs. Strife took what she had to bundle up her child and herself, doing the best she could to keep her baby warm. When she deemed the both of them ready, she set out. Food wasn't packed because Mrs. Strife didn't plan on being out for very long, and it would only serve to further encumber her.
Now at the start of the Mt. Nibel trail, Mrs. Strife took a deep breath, tightened her hold around the bulky bundle of fur in her arms, and started the journey.
It was a treacherous and confusing walk, though it felt more like a climb. Mrs. Strife relied on trial and error to get her through. Many times did she have to backtrack or turn around. Going through every tunnel felt like walking in circles; every corner felt like a dead end. The cold was much worse up on the mountain. Nibelheim was seeing its first flakes - Mt. Nibel almost had the equivalent of a blizzard. The tunnels helped with the cold somewhat, since the chilling wind couldn't attack them there. Mrs. Strife, though not very comfortable with the weather, considered herself very lucky. She hadn't run into any creatures (yet, she told herself) and was very glad for that. She desperately wanted to check on her child, but didn't dare to uncover him. It wasn't worth the risk.
Though her arms and legs started to burn with fatigue, Mrs. Strife persevered. That one hope burned in her, keeping her from turning back to Nibelheim. The hope that she would find the Demon Woman.
Mrs. Stife turned back and took the middle path (she had hit a dead end again; stalactites and stalagmites divided the cave). What she saw next nearly took her breath away.
A Mako spring, completely natural, flowed in the near center of a cave that had its walls and most of the floor covered in what appeared to be tree roots. The Mako spring itself was a beautiful and extremely rare sight. The Mako being formed completely naturally was what made it rare. Normally, the only Mako found would be the condensed kind that came from reactors. A bright green light emanated from the fountain, illuminating the whole cave. Towards the top of the fountain were little rainbow lights, which resembled a lighter hued version of materia. Mrs. Strife couldn't help but stare in wonder.
What felt like mere seconds later, Mrs. Strife found herself breathing heavily, and her trembling legs gave out. Now on her knees, Mrs. Strife tried to draw out any strength she might have had to lift herself upright, but she had none.
I've... failed... she thought to herself. There was never any guarantee that I would've found her. I have only myself to blame for trying. She hung her head in defeat. Now she and the child were going to die in the cold. Even if she stayed home, at least it would've been warm for a little while. This whole journey was frigid enough to freeze the soul from the very start, it seemed.
Now that her mind was taken off of walking, Mrs. Strife turned her attention to the baby in her arms. She realized that she had not heard a single sound from the bundle, nor had she felt any movement whatsoever.
Fearing the worst, Mrs. Strife wept. She let a sob escape her.
"Did you honestly think it was that worthless to come out all the way up here? I completely doubt very many would even try; certainly not anybody from Nibelheim," a voice nearby said. Mrs. Stife looked up and saw a strange figure.
The figure had a female humanoid appearance, though with pale gray skin and a light purple eye (almost pink), the other eye covered by silver hair with a dark tint to it. The pupil of the eye appeared to be slitted, like a cat's.
Hope returned, doing a little cheer in Mrs. Strife's mind. However, she couldn't be sure. It was a trick, wasn't it? Something her fatigued mind came up with? It wouldn't be a surprise if she was now hallucinating. The Demon Woman could've been part of her imagination.
"Though many would be insulted when called a demon, I am flattered. It shows that the cowards are still afraid of me, even after so long," the woman said with a smirk.
It must be my imagination. How else would my thoughts have been read? Mrs. Strife thought. Well, if the Demon Woman can change her shape, she can read minds, I suppose.
"I can't make it..." Mrs. Strife said between breaths. "Neither of us will be able to live past this winter, and I actually attempted this-this quest. It was a stupid thing to do, and now I'm losing it..." If Mrs. Strife was seeing things, then it wouldn't be out of the ordinary to talk to herself.
"I'm surprised you have been able to come this far and still live," the woman finally said with a look of amusement on her face. "Come with me. It is best that you two are warmed up, especially the young one."
Mrs. Strife used a bit of recovered energy to pull herself up and tried to follow as the woman began to walk. The woman, seeing her difficulty, took hold of Mrs. Strife's right arm and supported her. It was all a dream to Mrs. Strife. She expected to wake up in her bed, back in Nibelheim, soon.
The woman was covered in a black cloak that ended at her ankles, Mrs. Strife observed. Looking at her heels, Mrs. Strife assumed she wore boots. The woman kept looking forward, ignoring Mrs. Strife.
The woman led Mrs. Strife through a path she had never noticed the whole time she was there. It had many twists and turns. Most of the other paths were ignored. Though it was a dream, Mrs. Strife was glad she had someone to lead her.
Eventually, they were out, near one of the mountain peaks. The wind and snow blew harder than before. The ability to breathe was a bit of a miracle, since the air was thinner.
The woman lead Mrs. Strife to a wooden house. She opened the door and motioned for Mrs. Strife to enter.
"Take off your shoes and sit."
Mrs. Strife did as she was told, then sat on the long couch, grateful for the rest. It felt like a few minutes, but already Mrs. Strife could feel her fingers and legs again. This dream feels awfully realistic, Mrs. Strife observed.
Mrs. Strife unbundled her child, holding her breath. Her baby was cold - but not freezing - and breathing faintly. Mrs. Strife let out a breath of relief. Reassured that her son was alive, she then took in her surroundings. Across from her was a TV, sitting on top of what looked like a set of drawers. She heard clinking to the left of her and turned to see a kitchen. The woman was at the oven, which was to the right of the fridge but separated by a counter. The sink was against the wall to the left of the woman, counters filling in the empty spaces. Behind Mrs. Strife was a table with eight chairs. The only thing that "separated" the rooms was the floor. Close to the door, a section of the floor appeared to be made of concrete and was lower than that of the rest of the house. Carpet covered the living room, wood covered the dining, and tile covered the kitchen floor. A nice way to distinguish the different areas, Mrs. Strife though with awe.
A delicious aroma wafted from the kitchen. Mrs. Strife then realized that she had not eaten in quite a while. She stood up, cradling her child closer to her person, and looked towards the kitchen. The woman held a steaming bowl and waved to a chair, gesturing for Mrs. Strife to sit.
Mrs. Strife gently set her child on the table, now leaving his face uncovered. The woman placed a bowl of soup and a spoon in front of Mrs. Strife, then sat across from her.
This is no dream, Mrs. Strife silently realized after the first spoonful. The soup was delicious, warming her throat and stomach. Mrs. Strife ate quickly (though not messily), not stopping to try to make conversation. It didn't seem to matter to the woman.
Mrs. Strife place the spoon in the empty bowl, pushed the bowl slightly forward, leaned back in the chair, and cradled her baby. Her baby felt much warmer and seemed to be breathing steadily.
The woman didn't move and instead said, "Tell me now: what exactly do you need from me?" Mrs. Strife noticed that her voice had a strange sound to it, like she had lived long and knew much.
"There was no chance of survival for us back there," Mrs. Strife began. "I wasn't able to tend the garden, nor was I able to buy enough food for the winter. I wasn't able to do much of anything in my condition, actually. My husband died of an illness the year before, and it was almost impossible to do anything by myself. I don't know how I made it through. I knew there was a risk starting this..." She paused for the right word. "...quest, but I took that risk, hoping to find help. Nobody would've helped us back there, I knew that. But - please understand! - I am doing this more for him than for myself. He only turned a month old four days ago. He hasn't learned the joy of living yet.
"So I came to ask you for help. It doesn't matter how," Mrs. Strife finished.
"I am willing to let you stay. However -" the woman said when Mrs. Strife perked up. "- there is a price."
"What is it?" Mrs. Strife asked. "If it's possible for me to do it, I will."
"A simple thing to do. All I ask for is the child in your arms."
No! Mrs. Strife screamed in her mind. She did not want to give up her baby, the only loved one she had left. But, her mind reasoned, there must be a reason for this.
"What will happen to him? Will he be safe?"
"Of course. I will allow you to stay here, in my home, and raise him until his fourth birthday. When that day comes, you will have to give him to me and get ready to go back to Nibelheim. You will still have my assistance with anything you might need."
It wasn't too bad. She and, more importantly, her child will be safe. But there were a few more things...
"Will I be able to see him after the four years are up?"
"Yes. Every so often he will be brought down to your home for a visit," was the answer.
"One last thing." She hesitated, hoping her next question didn't come out rude.
"May I ask why you want him?"
"My reasons are partly selfish. That is all you will hear from me."
Mrs. Strife didn't want to, but the other choice was much worse.
"...I agree to your terms."
"It is done." The Deal was sealed.
The woman took the soup bowl to wash. Afterward, she placed it in the cupboard and the spoon in the drawer.
"May I have your name?" The woman had turned to ask.
"Strife. My last name," Mrs. Strife said.
"One with troubles. Sadly ironic."
"May I have yours?" Again, Mrs. Strife hoped that it didn't come out as rude.
"Jenova. It is my true name," the woman answered with a look that said she wasn't offended at all. "And the child's?"
"Cloud."
Notes:
Idea conceived: 2012年12月18日（火）
Started: 2013年1月15日（火）
Finished: 2013年1月17日（木）
Uploaded: 2013年1月20日（日）
I always thought, in my imaginings, that Jenova sounded like Moro from the English version of Princess Mononoke.
Next Chapter