World Tree MUSH

    Kaipo has a lot of interesting little houses and places, and unsurprisingly one of these is that a huge number of buildings with nonsensical balconies, the only purpose of which is to look melancholy in the moonlight.

    It is a nice change of pace this evening though. The heat is starting to fade into evening, and Cecil is out of his armor for once, and out in the city, sitting on a railing in a manner most unbefitting a knight but which is deceptively comfortable. It's also one of the only times he's been relatively alone, nonthreatening, and here. And it happens to be near where a certain Mysidian often passes by, though whether that is by design or happenstance isn't clear.

"The desert's quiet at night, huh," comes a soft voice from just behind Cecil.

The soft click of footsteps on the sun-baked stones, chilled in the heat of the night, precedes Amara's approach. The blue mage has left her trade garments behind in favour of a set of casual slouched boots and a simple linen tunic that reaches a little ways down her thighs, her hair let out as she moves up to the railing to lay a hand on it.

She doesn't look at the Dark Knight. But that's not unusual. Amara had agreed to follow along with Cecil and friends, but getting her to open up has been challenging. She hadn't said it in so many words, but it was probably for Rydia's sake. As traveling companions go, she's been very quiet around most of the group.

"Can I ask you something?" she says then, eyes still turned out towards the village around them. "Something not sassy or vindictive, I mean."

Off in the distance, the low hoot of an owl carries miles across the sand.

    That's quite an atmosphere to have this discussion. At least Cecil isn't jumpy enough to leap out of his skin. He does startle some, but when he sees who it is he relaxes... partly. Never know when someone will try to turn him to a toad for what he did, but if Amara hasn't yet, he feels safe enough around her. Besides, she seems pleasant enough other than that.

    "It would be a welcome change, after travel with Rydia," Cecil says with a small smile. "It is a quiet night, but it is nice to have one of those every now and then."

    The young knight turns slightly, brow furrowing with worry, but then he looks back to Amara. "What is on your mind? I could use a distraction."

To Amara, at least, the night doesn't seem all that oppressive. The quiet gives her occasion to collect her thoughts. The world doesn't intrude on her as she faces things she didn't want to face.

"That's the nature of young girls. I think she's a lot sassier than most, though. But it's just who she is." Amara smiles faintly, bowing her head a little. For a moment, the arcs of her bangs hide her eyes and much of her face from immediate view.

The Dark Knight takes her prompting, but what he gets back is a moment of pregnant silence. Amara's hand tightens around the railing.

"I wanted to ask you when your mind changed," Amara finally asks, and here she tilts her head and finally looks towards Cecil.

There's a quiet sadness in her eyes - a telltale shimmer to them, as if she's bottling up the harder feelings and filtering them out. "Between what happened in Mysidia and now. What made you go from the man on that day to... someone who carried himself with so much guilt as you do."

    A shared chuckle over Rydia breaks the ice, but the matter turns serious again with that question. Cecil's smile vanishes, not into a frown or scowl, but a more brooding and thoughtful expression that Amara may remember from the times his helmet was off. It's an expression he's had quite often of late.

    "You don't start with the easy questions, do you?" He sighs. "In truth, it was during the trip to Mysidia when doubt began to gnaw at me. The King had always been like a father to me... a kind and understanding man. To give an order like that, which made the Red Wings begin to have doubts... it was concerning, but I trusted him. I had never been forced to enforce order on my command before, though... and seeing how shocked your fellows were, it fed upon the doubts."

    He shakes his head. "I trusted, and I also wanted to protect my men. A doubting squad hesitates, makes mistakes. Dies. But their points were right, and after delivering the crystal I asked the King why. He demoted me, and sent myself and my best friend, who defended me, to Mist. I still held out hope for a misunderstanding at this point..."

    He gestures toward the inn. "But then Rydia... the delivery we were tasked with was a trap to burn down her village. So much pointless death. I knew I couldn't return to Baron, at least not as its servant then. I need to go back to find out why, and to save Rosa from the madness."

"No. Just the questions that follow me around," Amara says with a small dip of her head.

The girl shifts her weight a little, resting her elbow on the railing. Her hands fold together as she listens to the Dark Knight explain his story - the tale of a man following the order of a man he trusted like a father.

A man who sent him to do the unthinkable, and take her life away from her.

Rydia had told her a little of what happened in Mist. It doesn't surprise Amara as much as it could. But she lowers her eyes nevertheless, turning towards the railing once more. "We had no idea," she says in a quiet voice, trying to keep her heart out of it and only partially succeeding at quieting it down to a simple, subdued ache. "My brothers weren't fighters. They were just students who had to rush and try to protect the Elder. But...."

Amara closes her eyes, biting down to her lower lip for a moment as she tries to figure out how to finish the sentence. When she opens her eyes once more, she manages to put her gaze back on Cecil.

"...Why would the King tell you to take our crystal? We were peaceful people. And to do that to Rydia's village...."

    Amara has time, because Cecil isn't going to interrupt. He has his own thoughts anyway, and can only wince when it stirs up violent and painful memories. What does one say to that?

    In the end, one can say theories and worries, it turns out. When Amara floats that question, he can look at what he CAN do to at least explain... or do something about it. "I don't know, but perhaps it has some power he desires. The King has never been power hungry, before... and he raised me with morals that say this is wrong. I worry that something is influencing him, or that he has fallen ill... or even that he has been told some very wrong things, and really is doing what he thinks best. I don't know what to think, but I can only hope that this... Tree we have ended up on has disrupted Baron's plans enough that we can put a stop to anything like Mysidia happening again."

    He winces once more. "But I don't know how to make it up to you, what happened."

Amara can practically feel the guilt rolling off of the Dark Knight's words. She watches him as he speaks, eyes dancing across his face and catching those little winces. The outward signs of genuine stabs of feeling. If he's lying, he's a convincing liar.

What Rydia told her rings more and more true - and he hasn't turned her away, to date.

"I don't know if there is anything that can change what happened," she concedes as she turns to look out over the desert once more.

She smiles a small, bitter little smile. "You know... it's kind of funny. I always dreamed that one day, I'd make Baron pay for what happened. But then I met you and your friends, and all I could do was cry. And maybe it's because nothing else matters but to cry. And if I had tried to do something violent, I'd probably die too, and you'd feel even worse."

Amara clears her throat a little before throwing another tough one out there.

"...How far would you go?" she asks. "If it turned out that the King wasn't just sick. That he really /has/ forgotten his morals and become mad for power."

    That's a funny question to chase the confession earlier. Cecil crosses his arms, and after listening to the comments, he can frame his answer much more easily at least.

    "I don't know," he says honestly. "I don't understand what could change a man so much. He was a Dark Knight once... does the same fate lie in store for me? Should I worry I am becoming a monster?" He taps a knuckle on the railing. "And what WOULD I do? Even if I can imagine it, would I end up just like what happened with you? Would I be able to take the necessary steps?"

    Hm. He sighs heavily, then Cecil turns around fully to look at Amara. "I would try to take him alive, so that I could understand. If it turned out he was... fully cognizant, then the survivors of Mysidia and Mist should be a part of a fair trial. It may be treason, but I would have to remove him from the throne. I'm just not sure if Baron has anyone good to take the throne in his place."

Amara's thought process is working towards a conclusion. One question is answered; more bubble into her thoughts.

When Cecil turns to look at her, Amara looks out over the sand, as if she could figure out where that owl is. For a moment, she doesn't answer, merely lowering her head. Once again, the arcs of her bangs keep her face out of immediate view, but the sag of her shoulders tell the tale. Some defensive wall has gone down.

"Don't misunderstand me," she finally says. "I don't want to try and put you on trial. Not anymore. I can see how genuine your grief is. The way you carry it with you. And I saw the way you blamed yourself when you found out where I came from. I don't think you're a terrible man at all."

When Amara finally turns to look at Cecil, she gestures towards his hip, as if to indicate a sword that's not there. "...I don't know much about Baron. But they say that a Dark Sword can only take the soul of the one who wields it. I hope that you can be different, because I think a soul that can feel so much guilt as yours isn't an evil soul."

    It's still a worry then. The sword does seem cursed, or perhaps just the power to weild it. Cecil nods, rubbing his chin. "Dark Knights are rare even in Baron, but the only other outside right now, Duncan, is also a good man. Perhaps the King was selective knowing how the power can corrupt..."

    He looks down. "But if it caused him grief this far in his life, maybe that was a mistake. I would throw away the blade if I could, but we need its power for now."

"Perhaps he became corrupted without even knowing it," Amara murmurs, folding her arms loosely around her midsection. Her shoulders come up a little, then settle as she lets out a soft breath.

The blue mage offers up a small, sad smile, and there's no hint of reproof in it. "Maybe there's a way to change the future," she says quietly. "I don't know if there is. But maybe there's a way to make sure that your soul is safe. In that sense, maybe it's good that you can feel the guilt you feel."

"I think it's when you don't feel guilty that you're in danger."

    "Maybe so," Cecil agrees. "But it's a vigilance I can't afford to take lightly either. For now, I will use it as needed, but after this is over I will need to find a way to retire the blade. I don't want to be a part of what happened again." Maybe he's overreacting, but...

    He grimaces. Cecil then shakes his head. "Here I am wallowing in my own grief when you have your own. Some champions of justice, eh? What I can do... what WE can do is put a stop to this. The rest can come later."