Back and forth. Back and forth. That was all he could do, all he could ever do, even though he was a hero in his own right.
He sighed, wiping the gray rag over and over again in a neverending circle on a spotless window, ignoring the other dust-covered areas. He 'd been called optimistic, but few people could be happy in this scenario.
He turned his head around to look at the setting sun. The light was truly beautiful, reflecting on the window like that. Red as blood, a fiery ball that floated in the sky.
-between a sky and a sunset, why don't you see me I'm right here-
He shook his head and blinked. What had that been? Maybe it was a song. Yeah. That was it. From the radio. Something that went like "do-daa-da-doooo-do-do"... or something. Whatever.
Stupid window. He hated this job. He hated this life. How had he even gotten himself into this situation anyway? Wasn't he a hero or whatever? Why weren't people bowing in the streets when he walked?
Probably because you're an Al Bhed in a cesspool of old Yevonites. No wonder. This city was practically their breeding grounds, a haunt of old Yevon believers that hated the new changes of Spira. And, of course, hated the Al Bhed. They didn't even pay him enough to go anywhere. He got... what was it? Five gil a day? That didn't pay jack shit.
But he was saving. Slowly. About two gil a day, sure, but he was saving. Saving to go... somewhere. He couldn't remember where, exactly, but he was saving.
Luckily, this city (What was it called again? hewondered) was filled with wasteful people, so even the trash they threw out could feed one man for all eternity.
Good thing he was that one man.
"Oye, bastard! Get back to work and stop slacking!"
He grunted without turning around. Really, who was the bastard here? He was surprised the stupid prick didn't have a frikkin' whip. Of course, not that it would have helped, since there was at least fifty feet between him and the overseer-slavedriver-guy.
That still didn't mean he had to call him a bastard. He could have called him... uh...
What was his name again? Damn, he hated these random spurts of amnesia!
-forgetting it all, where are you I can't see you I still love you-
Another song? Probably the same one, too. It was starting to get annoying. Wasn't there something else he could get stuck in his head?
He continued his endless circling with the limp rag on the already clean window. To move on was to do more work and, honestly, who wanted to do that? He got five gil a day whether he cleaned the entire temple or sat around scratching his ass. What did it matter? What really mattered anyway?
A bell sounded far below him.
"Yo, asswipes! Time to go away! Get lost, tomorrow'sa 'nother day!"
He sighed. First bastard, now asswipe. Did anyone even remember his real name anymore?
Of course he didn't... but that wasn't the point.
-my heart lives inside the glass music box here take this key the glass key to my heart set it FREE-
Argh... what was with this song? Even Lym's singing was better than this, and that had been a noise to be reckoned with!
Wait a minute... who was Lym? Dammit!
-I'll fly across the sea for you, just for you to hold me close don't you miss me yet-
This time, he just slapped his forehead in surrender. Fine. Let his mind keep repeating songs he didn't even remember, keep saying things he didn't know.
After all, what mattered?
He turned off the sidewalk into a dirty gray brick building he called home. The rent was only twenty gil a month, thankfully, so he could afford it. Food, however, was a different matter entirely. Food prices had been going up ever since the whole continent had been thrown into chaos.
He went into his bathroom and looked over the dirty white sink. His barely cracked mirror reflected his own face back at him, and he almost laughed. He looked underfed, tired, and even his one good eye looked sort of glazed. This was the face of one of the most famous heroes of Spira? Almost at once, he sombered, but he had no idea why.
He sighed. Even if he couldn't remember his own name, he did know the name of the High Summoner and all the others who had once led Spira. He had even been friends with most of them.
But whenever he thought of their names, his mind drew a blank. So far, he could remember one – the High Summoner's. It had been Aria, he knew, but what of everyone else's?
Well, he never had been good with names anyway.
-I am your dreams the memory I drift alongside the crimson butterfly over the field of scarlet flowers please save me-
But who had Lym been? Now that he'd remembered that name, it stuck to his head, floating around in his memory. He couldn't assign a face to it. All he remembered about it was something to do with ribbons, and bad singing, and... and...
Green eyes. Green eyes just like his.
-sinking into darkness, please won't you reach out your hand catch me I'm falling so scared of the dark-
He held his head. Who had Lym been? Why did he hear that song? Why was he always forgetting everything??
Aria. Twy. Kirin. Roeph. Vaye. Lym. Lym. Lym. LYM.
-I love you I love you I love you please won't you come back to me I love you a thousand times over can't you hear me-
The High Summoner. A beautiful bride. A coma.
The dream. The groom. Lost.
His friend. The navigator. The accident.
The filmer. The change. The insanity.
And Lym. Lym. His Lym.
For the first time in two years, Kale cried.
-an angel's chorus I'll wait for you a thousand years close up my heart in the music box to await your return without change-
He remembered them coming. He'd fought to give her time.
When he'd woken up, the entire building had collapsed. Nothing but rubble. They said they'd seen no one leave, only bodies.
He'd have been one of them, but he'd lived. Lived and suffered. Lived and lost. Lived while Lym died.
He sank to his knees on the floor of his shoddy apartment. This was why he had been saving... to go to his home. Sanubia.
-oh please come home to me, run into my arms where I'll never let you go chase away the nightmares-
He stared at his limp hands. It'd been her wedding, and now most of them were dead. Lym was dead. Kirin was dead.
He wanted to be dead.
He stood up again. He stared hard at himself in the mirror, hating everything he saw. This was him. Him, Kale. The one who had loved Lym, teased Lym, protected Lym. The one who had let Lym die.
He stared at his reflection, pulled back his fist, and shattered it right where his good eye would have been.
Then all was silent.
-I'll harden my heart, show no tears, love you forever and ever and ever into death but still you'll have the memory of me and we will never be apart.-
an: well, I'm back. I'm sure you're all thrilled, of course... or, more accurately, I assume. the word "tremolo" is "a sudden change of pitch", and it usually is short and choppy, like two eighth notes. it's like doing a quick high C and then suddenly doing a low C. if you don't know what an eighth note is, or –perish the thought!- a high C is, you haven't been paying attention during Music class.
different writing style here – less serious, more normal. but, since it is you-know-who, it's more his style, and we all have a soft spot where the so-called "Kale" is concerned. well, at least I do. you people will probably be waiting a bit for the next update too, just to warn you. the next one will be about the one known as "Kyre" (called "stacatto")...
anyway, everyone, now YOU can vote what the one after Kyre will be about! just send a review or whatever saying which character of the following you want to see the account of, and I'll try to listen to you guys! of course, I may just ignore you completely and write whatever... but I'll give this a try anyway.
I will write about:
-anyone you can think of (except Roeph/Nooj and Blanche/LeBlanc, because they're too difficult to write for! ;
that's all for now. ciao, dahlings!