Odds and Ends

It was nightfall when she unfastened her belt, sifting through the pouch at the back. If anyone was watching the axgirl, they would notice she was smiling; her lips barely curved, but undeniably so…

Tiny, battle-callused hands picked out a handful of items, laying them in front of her with care. To a casual observer, they seemed little more than scraps; the torn corner of a sturdy, razor-edged card covered in scrolling, foreign script… a tiny rock-like shape, which talented eyes would recognize as the Professor's last attempt at cooking… a chocolate, still wrapped, given to her with trembling hands and blue eyes even she could tell were worshipful… a faded red rose from a nobleman's teasing joust interspersed with a few Altamiran blossoms and tied with a length of white ribbon once worn by a hero. Running a hand over the dried flowers, her attention turned to a tiny carving of a bear wrapped in violet ribbons; the bear had been… had been from Home, and the ribbons were her first gift that she remembered, proffered as a premature, tearless farewell.

But the girl who had given her the ribbons was still alive and well; the axgirl had learned once more that the gentle sensation she felt near her heart when she looked across the campfire at the little blonde, already sleeping, was that of happiness.

Her hands touched cool metal next, and she recoiled instinctively. The last thing she held, hid safely in the bottom of the pouch, was a small, sturdy key. It was in her safekeeping, he had told her; she was to give it back only when she was ready. Frightened equally by his earnest supplication and the part of her which revelled in it, she hid the key away…

Picking it up, along with the rest of the pieces which, when united, composed her new life, her eyes darted across the campfire once more. Settling on the glint of metal greaves and wisps of blue hair this time, she took in the martial artist's alert stance as he stood, guarding the party as they began to drift off to sleep.

Dropping her eyes to the key, Presea looked at it thoughtfully. Not yet… the years she had lost still haunted her.

Not now… but soon, perhaps. Like everything else she had picked up along this journey, she could re-learn how to forgive, too.

. o .


. o .

Disclaimer: Presea and her compatriots belong to "Tales of Symphonia," which belongs to Namco and affiliates.

Sabe's Scribbles: This, and the mini-fictions that will follow, are exactly what the title hints at – odds and ends, little looks at the worlds of Sylvarant and Tethe'alla and the people who call those realms home. Unless otherwise indicated, they are unconnected; if some of these look familiar, it is because I have posted them on Livejournal communities/journals as "taekwonangel."