Viva La Vida (Redone)

[MessengerOfDreams]

A/N I did this story originally awhile back. And while I think the previous draft was excellent, it still had one thing I didn't do quite right.

I've learned that in writing, showing is always better than telling. I tracked down some instances of writing where I was doing too much telling and not enough showing. Thus, I made a second draft. And I still wonder if it will be my last, but here's what I've got, and I'm proud of it.

Yes, this is highly inspired by Coldplay's Viva La Vida album, my personal all time favorite. Some of the lines come from the songs, but it is 99% my own script, the storyline is just interpreted from the album. The characters are mine, though, and the words are mine, and the plot is my interpretation. I am certainly not Coldplay and do not own the Viva La Vida album's rights, just the album itself. Prospekt's March Version.

The story is a bit long, so if you're likely to ♥♥♥♥♥ about that, I suggest you back out now. I hope you don't, though!

Enjoy!

MoD


It was a long and dark December,

and on the rooftops I remember there was snow, and a lot of it. White snow, pure white. Not the sort of rocky, crunchy grayish-white stuff that didn't seem enough like snow more than frozen sky. It was soft, white, and completely pure of blemish, as if someone had taken a fresh white blanket from the wash and spread it over the city. It's a tired metaphor, but it works.

I never was one to really worry about the weather; I was much too practical for that. But even I had to admit that the complete anomaly of the weather seemed almost like it could be a good omen. Not a thought I entertained that much; I never really believed the notion of things being out of my control. I didn't like things being out of my control.

Whether I liked it or not, the good omen persisted. And I have to admit, it was a blessing.

Part 1
The Rooftops

I spent a lot of time on rooftops, more than the average person should. Maybe it was my strange attraction to the snow, or maybe it was that omen subconsciously urging me forward. Maybe it was my fondness for heights; to go through the city and peer down on all the poor, unfortunate souls as they froze down below. I guess it was the whole long and dark December thing putting a strain in their spirits that even St. Nick was having trouble wrinkling out.

I wasn't one to worry about the weather influencing my emotions or little things out of my control. Made no sense to me. So impractical.

I was on top of the tallest building in the town of Violet Hill. A moderately sized town, albeit one of the most famous, simple and clean. Practical. Like me. Perhaps why I stayed there, even though I never felt quite connected to it.

The tallest building, 42 North Cemetery, had a (by now useless) small patio up on its roof, entirely covered in the soft layer of snow that I had no intents to impact other than my gloved hand print. I always sat on the corner of the building, over Cemetery Drive, on the spot where today there happened to be a tall, blue-haired man sitting already.

That day I didn't bother to tell him to move; I did it for him. Wordlessly I jerked him out of the way, on the roof and off of the ledge, and took his place.

"Hello, Kati," he told me expressionlessly.

"Hello, James," I replied with equal monotone.

It wasn't an uncommon experience for James Locke to be on the rooftops as well. He enjoyed that type of thing. What was uncommon; rare, more likely, was to run into him anywhere. What never happened was us exchanging more than a wave outside of the rooftop of 42 North Cemetery. On the rooftops, I remember, was where we communicated and interacted.

And the odd thing was, I never questioned it before. Never before did I want anything more.

I remember the first time we met, and as soon as I had taken my seat on the roof I fell into a flashback, drifting off as I had a tendency to.

I had taken a seat next to the man whom, at the time, I had never met. Instead of sitting on the edge of the roof like we were now, he had taken one of the patio chairs and sat a few feet away from the edge. Oddly enough, next to him was an empty patio chair, as if he was expecting company. Not thinking, I took the seat without asking if it was for a friend of his.

He turned towards me and smiled. “Nice. I was hoping for company.”

“Is that why the seat was empty?” I asked.

He nodded. “I was allowing opportunity to knock at my door. I wasn't expecting it to, but it worked. Nice to have you.”

I was surprised that he was being so hospitable to someone he did not know, but my defenses didn't rise immediately. While I gathered my wits about me, I observed this amiable stranger. He had a nice build, as if he was quite active. He was a couple inches taller than I was, which was quite a feat as I was just over six feet myself. His face was well built, and quite handsome, I had to admit, with soft blue eyes and a sharp, warm smile. Atop his head, he had a few inches of bold blue hair, perfectly spiked as if he had spent awhile on it.

“You're awfully quiet.”

“Hmm?” I snapped out of my trance and blinked, surprised. “Oh, yeah. I...”

“No problem,” he replied with an intrigued grin. I chuckled nervously, when my eyes caught a look at a piece of metal that rested on his chest. When I identified them, I gasped slightly, as I had one almost identical to his.

“Nice... tags...” The words stumbled out of my mouth clumsily.

He put a hand under his white army tags, saying “Well, thank you. I wear them with... some level of pride.”

I didn't quite hear him because I was digging in my pants pocket, and then pulled out my own. I placed them around my own neck for him to see.

“So... you're in the army as well?” he asked.

I nodded. “Obviously.”

He chuckled at my blatant reply. “Well! Small world.”

“A lot bigger than we think. Odd things just happen,” I stated awkwardly, as I didn't think this world was small. It was large, with untold dangers and fears beyond the mind's comprehension. Immediately I felt foolish for my misshapen words and asked him “Have we... met?”

“No, I should think not. I'd have remembered you,” he confirmed plainly, although his statement was not lost on me.

“What division?” I asked, abruptly changing the course of the conversation.

“42nd Battalion,” he replied. “Up north. Had the greatest comrades as support, too.”

I nodded, and he took that as an excuse to go on. “I remember them very well, still keep in touch with some of them. There was Martin, we called him Mic because he always liked to sing, even if the others didn't want him to. There was Brian, we called him Poker because he would always lead the card games in our offtime.”

His gaze turned darker as he went on. “Then there was Isadora. She was a clever one, too, and cared for all of us. Very no-nonsense, though, but never lost spirit. We never gave her a nickname, she was just Isadora.” He smiled sadly when he finished, lost in the memories.

I didn't know how to follow that up. “I was in the 37th batallion. Most of them died.” And that was all I had to say on the matter.

“Really?” he raised an eyebrow. “I know it was war, but you must have had at least one good experience in the army. One person to back you up. Anyone?”

I scowled, and immediately wondered if he had ever been in the army or if he was just saying he had. Because obviously we were not in the same state of mind. War was hell. A necessary evil. For him it was just a challenge to face as friends. A 90s cartoon.

Those judgmental thoughts immediately slowed down as I noticed on his neck was a long, dark scar, and it didn't look very pretty, more like painful. It wasn't very long, but it was a concentrated darkness, and it made me shudder, because it looked like a former gunshot wound.

He noticed me staring, and immediately I mumbled an apology. He shook his head with a smile. “Don't worry about it. I expect people to notice it, so I just stopped minding.”

“It looks painful.”

“It was. Can't believe I escaped that one with my life. Isadora had to rush me out of there to the medic tent, and I was relieved and surprised that someone was going out of their way to make sure I lived. She had told me to stay put and that she'd be right back.”

“Sounds like a good person,” I offered.

“She was,” he noted with a frown.

“Was?”

“She never did come back.”

I drew in a sharp breath as the full impact of those words hit me. This was why I never made friends in war. Most of us were just going to die anyways.

“I owe my life to her,” he stated. “Unfortunately I'm still not sure how to make that payment.”

“My parents died when I was 15,” I blurted out. “A robber in Fraise killed them. The government didn't do anything about it. I'm in the army because I'm making my payment.”

I never was good with timing and structure. He didn't mind, though. “So... as vengeance?”

“Yes,” I said without a second thought. He sighed quietly, which didn't go past me. I glared but he didn't respond.

A few moments passed, and then he turned towards me with his smile returned. “James,” he said, holding out his hand.

I shook it without a doubt in my head. “Kati,” I replied.

And that was that. No fanfare, no sparks, just a handshake and a continuing of the conversation. It was that simple.

By all accounts, we never should have gotten along so well or been able to relate to each other so well. I wasn't much of a talker, and had barely even a shred of a social life. I was very much a solitary person, by choice. I don't think I really talked much to other people, unless it was necessary, and even then I was very succinct. Ever since my parents died, I struck out on my own, alone by choice. I didn't want others' comfort, I didn't want to be weak.

With James, though, it was different, and I never wondered why. By all means, I should have, but I didn't.

The war ended just a year ago, and five years since I had signed up. And that was that. No winners, no losers. My appetite for revenge was never quite sated, but it wasn't my sole focus anymore. But it was always there, in the back of my mind, waiting, like a white clad sniper in the snow, just like snow here.

Either way, it was the bonds of war that got us talking. And that's the way it was. I didn't question it. It didn't matter.

“Kati?” he put a hand on my shoulder, and my eyes shot open. A bit embarrassed, I asked “I... did it again, didn't I?”

He nodded with a smile. “Hey, you're a thinker,” he compensated.

I noticed that he had made his way to my right along the rooftop, as per the norm. We peered down, watching the mirthless people shuffle across the ground. Even a couple hundred feet up, we could tell that they weren't enjoying the weather.

He was aware of this. "Ho, ho, ho," he muttered, devoid of any joy. I could see out the corner of my eye, though, that he was smiling, and deduced that he was dryly mocking the depressing dots below.
I granted him a sparse chuckle. "Brainwashed slaves to the weather. A master they cannot escape, but cannot adapt to."

"I don't actually get it," he sighed, reclining on his elbows ever so slightly. "The weather isn't actually that bad."

"I actually quite like it," I admitted.

"Hmm?" he cocked his head at me, tossing his spikes of hair along with it. I could see his interest peaking at my statement; even he knew me well enough to question my statement about sentimentality over something so small.

"I dunno, really," I shrugged, turning the slightest red and hoping he didn't notice. "I just think it's a nice change from usual snow." I scooped up a slight bit in my glove and elaborated "See? This is storybook snow. Not... normal snow."

James chuckled a bit. "I always thought you liked things plain and practical."

With an annoyed wrinkle of the eyebrow, I tossed the snow at his face. Him having lightning fast reflexes, though, he blocked it with his own large palm, and it limply collapsed onto the ground from whence it came. I sighed. "Y'see, that's the thing. I'm... rather surprised by how much I like this snow."

"It's called being human, Kati," he replied, but not mockingly or accusingly. Almost... comfortingly, reassuringly.

"I didn't know I struck you as so inhumane," I held back a pout, instead letting my eyes do the attacking with a sharp, disapproving look.

"You're only as inhumane as you make yourself."

I nodded, not looking at him. "You know I'm not a scathing, short tempered ♥♥♥♥♥," I muttered, if only to appease myself. Immediately I realized I had disjointed the conversation again.

"Never said you were," his response to that was tired, as if he was wondering what I wasn't getting. James was sort of easy to read.

"Then what do you think makes me so inhumane?"

My words were irritated, terse, but it wasn't so much at his words to me as they were from self-conflict. James sighed loudly, but said nothing more, as if he was trying to cognate an answer. While he reclined back further, I slumped forward, my blonde, whiplike ponytail draped in my lap. If I were to shift my balance any further forward I'd probably fall head first off the roof.

How fitting. While he wasn't exactly a hippie he was definitely laid back, and here I was. Echoed. Tense. Exhausted. Hollow. Not depressed or downhearted, but hollow nonetheless.

He put a firm hand on my shoulder, and before I knew it he had tilted me back so that I was lying next to him. I wasn't a touchy-feely person, but when he touched me, I shuddered slightly. Not out of cold, but from surprising warmth. I put forward a slight, guarded attempt at resisting but I decided it wasn't worth the effort.

He was facing me when my head descended on the snow, and he had an indeterminable expression on his face. His mouth was straight, turned in neither a northern or southern direction, and his eyes were simply firm, not betraying emotion. He could have been amused, angry, frustrated, manic, gleeful; really, anything. Even though I could usually read him, when he closes up there's no opening him by force, even for me. The only determinate I had was the warm hand on my shoulder, restraining me but not against my will.

He always did have a very handsome face. No point in dancing around it or denying it. He looked very dashing. He always had.

I returned his look best I can, but he was always better at reading me when I closed up than when I was open. He didn't address whatever he thought I was feeling, but he did ask me "What do you live for?"

"Hm?" I was unprepared for his question. He was always prepared, but I never was, at least in manners of the casual psyche. Something else to separate us, but truth is, we never were that different. We both shared sensibility, we were both grounded, we were both practical, although him not anywhere near to the extent that I was. More similar than on first glance.

He let out a slight smile and a hint of amusement when I respond so lamely. "I just wonder what keeps you going, what you look forward to. What you spend your days doing that, you know, defines your life."

Goddamn it, James. I chuckled nervously, because I knew I didn't have an answer.

It wasn't that I was suicidal, it was just that I didn't really occupy my time with... well, anything. I sort of drifted through the days. Transparent. Just sort of... there.

"You don't have an answer, do you?"

"Go to hell." I was angrier than I suspected, annoyed that he caught me, aggravated that he was trying to figure me out.

"You don't," he confirmed, and his smile, instead of widening like I predicted, simmered down into the unreadable expression, as if he was calling back his emotions like a dog fetching information for him.

"You're sure trying to break walls of my thoughts down today, aren't you?" I grumble, wanting to smack that expression off his face. True, I was never a belligerent person, but it was so angering that he was trying to break into my subconscious.

"Repressing walls, guarding walls, fourth walls, I'm breaking them all down today," he said lazily. "Right, guys?"

In a flash of a second, I had examined the area around me only to find no one there. "Ha ha," I grumbled.

"Made you look," he smirked, proud of his elementary joke.

"Okay then, Confucius," I growled, wanting him to just stop. "What do you live for?"

His smirk morphed into a smile, and while he still had a hand on my shoulder, I see his other hand above his waist, moving around but never going too far away from him, as if it was looking for somewhere to rest, but didn't know where it should.

"Opportunity," is all he said, his grin wistful. He was never usually so flighty or in the clouds, so it was unusual to see him like that. I knew he always liked opportunity, but he was never so perky about it.

"Opportunity?" I gave him an incredulous look.

"Yep. Simply, to find opportunities to enjoy life. Anywhere, anytime. That's why I like you; you didn't think twice to start talking to me."

"Okay, cut to the chase, what's your point here?" I was about sick of all this philosophy crap.

He finally put his other gentle hand on my skyward shoulder. "I dunno," he admitted. He wasn't smiling or at his baseline face. In fact, he seemed a bit sad as he held my gaze. "Really, it's sort of... I guess I just don't like seeing you so..." he sighed, and I could practically see him stumbling on words.

Groaning, I wrestled out of his unresisting grasp and start to sit back up. "God's sakes, if you're going to intrude on my psyche, at least know what you're going to say."

"Empty." his response was amid my sentence.

Son of a ♥♥♥♥♥. He had me figured out.

Halfway up, I sighed and dropped back down next to him, not caring that my head slammed against the concrete through the half-inch thick snow with measurable force. He winced but turned me back towards him. There was something about his touch that struck me- he was forceful, controlling, but not manically or overtly so. He was gentle, unassuming, not denying me control while still taking some of his own. Opportunity, perhaps?

Oh, great. Now I was buying into this crap.

He sighed as he faced me again. Our faces were dangerously close but I thought nothing of it. His eyes were striking as they penetrated through mine, as if he was looking into my soul. It would have been haunting were it anyone else, but he was gentle about it.

"I guess it just is... a bit painful to see you looking... for a purpose. For... something to be. Considering how much... potential you have." I couldn't help but note how much of a struggle it seemed to voice his thoughts, as if they were things in his own subconscious that he drew from mine, and my gaze was reflecting them back to him. "You're... quite a person, Kati."

I sighed as night started to fall. It was only three-thirty, but I think you'd understand by now what a long and dark December this was. "Look, James," I told him with as much force and distance as I could muster, "I can take care of myself."

"I know, I know," he replied, blinking in a spastic burst of surprise. "I just want to... revive you." As soon as he said that, he closed his mouth, as if he wish he hadn't.

With good reason, too. His words were really starting to aggravate me. "Revive me?" It took all my energy not to start ranting and to keep a cool head. "I don't need anyone to 'revive me' or 'save me' or anything like that. I don't need your hero-boy antics, so if you'll excuse me." I didn't finish my sentence, I just sat back up for the last time, hanging back over the roof and shaking snow out of my blonde locks.

James sighed but said nothing, and his head sank a bit deeper into the snow. It came up to his ears. I felt a bit of regret for shutting him out like that, but he could get in line of people who wanted to get me to open up.

"Sorry," he mumbled, quiet to a point of barely audible. I didn't respond, but out of the corner of my eye I saw a pout on his face, of all things. I tried to hide a smirk but I think I failed.

He didn't say anything but he pulled out of the snow and sat up next to me. He refused to lay a hand on me, and I couldn't tell whether I appreciated or missed that. He just looked forward, and so I found it fit to do the same.

I glanced to my side at him, and noticed how deep in contemplation he was. Sort of like the statue of The Thinker, but with better hair. I found it both odd and amusing that I had humored myself that one time about his looks, especially in such an odd moment.

I studied him, but he made no move to motion towards me or acknowledge me. He was stone still. I sighed and asked "What are you thinking about?" In retrospect, shutting him out of my thoughts and then demanding his probably wasn't the best move but he didn't point this out.

He didn't face me, but in a flat tone asked me "Do you want the straight answer or the non-sappy answer."

"Surprise me."

With an unlabeled glint in his eye, he smiled slightly and chuckled "I was just... admiring your beauty in the winter moonlight."

Well. He certainly didn't go for the non-sappy answer.

He noticed my eyes widen and flinched a bit with a nervous grin of accomplishment on his face. That alone made me sigh. "Christ, James, I'm..." I was at a loss. "I'm not gonna kill you."

"I know," he replied, throwing his hand in the air. "It wasn't about that. I just know I sounded like an idiot right there."

"Meh..." I had nothing to say. I was too busy sorting through the comment. I glanced at him. He was back to looking out off the building, but I could read disappointment in his glazed stare.

Okay. If he wanted me to open up, fine. I'd open up. A little bit.

"What, I don't look intimidating to you?" Well, that was as good as getting me to open up was about to get- me trying to hide it in a jab. Count it as lucky or unlucky, my face wore the... ache I truly felt.

He gave me an eyebrow raise that looked like an attempt at suave. "No, I don't. I just told you that you were beautiful. Were you looking for intimidating instead? I mean, I've never met a woman fishing for that compliment, but-"

"You look ridiculous," I scowled, but he actually looked somewhat endearing.

He let his eyebrow rest. "No, actually, I don't find you intimidating. I find you weary. But last time I tried to tell you this, you weren't very receptive. At all."

I was surprised by this whole situation. The idea of me being beautiful had never crossed my mind. “Why are you telling me all this?” I demanded.

“Because I don't think you know it.”

My heart skipped a beat. I thought I had him figured out, and I thought he never would have gotten me pegged so well, but it was as if he studied me intensively the more we talked.

“Why do you care?” I asked again.

“...because you're a friend. And...” he stopped again.

"Why me?" I demanded. "Why not anyone else but me?"

He still didn't answer, as if the answer failed him. I had to admit that stung a little bit.

I sighed and threw my hands into my lap. "Alright, then. Tell me whatever the hell it is that's bugging you so much." I slumped forward again.

He looked at me, and in his eyes... I couldn't help but stare at him for a considerable amount of time because, for once, I couldn't tell what was in his eyes. But something was there, and he returned my gaze for a full minute and then some, as if I held something for him as well.

He didn't say anything either. He just held my gaze. It was almost hypnotic, and I don't mean like I was swooning for him. Staring directly into one's eyes was a very unsettling, remarkable experience. You just get... lost. Not in your thoughts, not in your heart, not in his gaze even; at least not for me. You just get lost.

"Well?" I asked, this time without frustration. "Aren't yo-"

My words were interrupted by the loud, system-shocking thought of wait a second he's kissing me. And the reason I was thinking that thought was because... well, he was. We both sat in the exact place as before, only he had my lips between his, not touching me in any other way, and I was sitting there, wide-eyed, in shock. I clumsily, instinctively tried returning it, but I wasn't very good. But it wasn't like I had prep time for this or anything.

Gradually he let go and faced me. I was nearly frozen in a look of bewilderment as he gave me a smile. This smile was slight, gentle and lacked the nerves and flinch his others did. I think it was because he knew his point was made loud and clear. Gently his hand crept onto mine, fallen at my side, and he held my gaze again, but before we could return to our prior state, quietly, was the first time he told me "I love you... my friend."

There are many ways to say that you love someone. What I usually heard, though, whether in movie or books or anywhere, really, is those three words followed by... some adjective of how one looks. A compliment on one's beauty. It was extremely disarming to hear that followed by words such as "my friend." What I heard was that it wasn't just my beauty he was proclaiming about me earlier that made him love me, it was the fact that I was there, that I was his friend. And the look in his eyes from earlier... what passion that would usually have been there since, in retrospect, his intent was this proclamation, it was sincerity. I could read all the more clearly as he said those words that there was a sincerity, honesty, that no matter how he went about it, was there.

Taking all of this into account, you'd understand why I smiled back and gave a kiss of my own.

Part 2
Violet Hill

I had come to find in the weeks to come, as the snow reached the ground at long last, that when you're freshly in love with someone, you wonder about them. Not just think about them, but wonder. Wonder what they like to eat, what their favorite colors are, wonder what they think of foreign drama films; at least if you didn't know already. I never really had to wonder that much about James, because throughout December, we spent every day together, and almost every moment of every day.

Really, what else were we supposed to do?

I hadn't found employment yet, nor had James, so we really had nothing better to do with our time than to spend it with each other, but really, there was nothing in the world better that we could bide our time with.

I'd always wondered what happened after a first kiss. As far as I knew, the screen faded to black and the credits ran, or the scene changes into the next chapter. When I wasn't looking for work I was watching a lot of movies or reading a lot of books. Apparently, what happened after a first kiss was sitting next to each other, my face extremely red and his hand gently in my hair, and then us, for the first time, exchanging phone numbers, addresses, other forms of contact.

I guess you could say we were moving too fast, and if I had been on the outside looking in on our relationship blossoming, I'd have said the same thing. But for some reason, it didn't matter. Just go with it and see what happens, you know? And really, I was entirely unprepared, albeit welcome, for the coming weeks, for the relationship ahead, for falling in love, and I could tell James was as well. There was no time leading up to it; our time on the roof excluded; there were no final realizations, there were no rehearsed lines. It just happened to both of us, and we acted upon it.

And the next day, he showed up at my house. And I was glad. And this time it was me who kissed him. I loved him. Everything fell into place after that. No customs, no lines, no caution. Everything flowed beautifully like a symphony months in the making.

It seemed like we were like a sunflower, growing several inches a day. A sunflower in the winter, but still blooming nonetheless. And even practical me wasn't regretting a day of it. I loved him. I truly did. I had been in a few short relationships before and never had the urge, even in my longest relationships, to go this fast.

We weren't perfect, but that made it more meaningful. No finishing each other's sentences; I had tried on a whim once and had said the completely opposite of what James was going to. I had turned bright red but he just laughed, and although I would have punched him in the arm before, I just threw in an awkward chuckle myself. We had argued fiercely one night over I can't remember now, but it was never drastic, relationship-threatening in my mind. We simply were fighting. We were human.

And despite the fact that we didn't speak through the rest of the night until morn, it felt more real than any relationship I'd ever been in, and I was grateful for it.

And the first time we slept together, we were doing just that, sleeping together, and nothing else. I was at his house, and he let me crash at his place, assuming I'd sleep on his couch where I was more comfortable. But I found that I felt awkward there, like it wasn't where I needed to be. So, quietly, and nervously, I crept into his room, and I lifted up the covers on the right side and quietly crept in. I noticed he was still awake, but he didn't get any ideas- he just kissed the top of my head and wrapped an arm around me, and soon he was asleep. It was blissful, and I fell asleep soon after.

This romance stuff was easier than I thought, at least so far.

Soon enough, Christmas Day had found its way to our city. I woke up early, because I realized I had forgotten to get James a gift. I couldn't quite be blamed for it, I had spent more than a decade not having anyone to shop for. I was at my own house, so I threw on the first clothes that came to mind and trudged through the city.

It wasn't far that I had to go, there was a small store a couple blocks away from my place of residence. Quietly, I walked in, hearing the familiar jingle of Christmas bells on the door. I made my way through the store, looking for something that suited him.

Finally, I found it. A brown journal, plain and the color of pine wood. I picked it up, observed it and opened it up. The paper suited him as well- it was nice, thick parchment that seemed like something a the most adept of wise men would write in. And James was one of the wisest people I knew, he really was.

Proud of my accomplishment, I picked out a maroon ballpoint pen and made my way to the checkout. The cashier, whom I had seen many times but whose name I did not remember, took the notebook and scanned it. Looking outside, I said before I could stop myself “Looks wonderful out, doesn't it?”

Before I could even draw in a gasp at myself, she had responded. “Why, yes, it is.” She threw in a laugh and added “People worry too much. The snow is welcome here as far as I'm concerned.”

I laughed as well. “Yes! Exactly! I don't get people around here, I really don't.”

We shared our laughter for a few moments longer, and then she returned the notebook in my possession. I put forward my money and accepted my change. Nodding with a smile, I said “Thank you, ma'am.”

“Oh, you're welcome, Kati, have a nice day!” she responded. I made my way out the door before I realized that the cashier knew my name. How kind of her to remember me when I barely knew her.

People were a lot better than I thought they were. For me, everything was so black and white, but now my life was being filled with brilliant colors.

Swiftly, I walked back to my house to see that James was already there on the porch steps, waiting. He laughed, and I realized it was too late to hide my gift, so I just kept it out.

“Morning, Kati,” he greeted me warmly.

“Morning, James,” I giggled, handing out my gift.

“Oh, what's this?” he asked me.

“You can't tell?”

“Of course I can,” he laughed. “It's a notebook, and a handsome one at that.”

“Oh, well...” I blushed, trying to think of what to say. “Handsome notebook for a handsome man.” I realized immediately that that was a horrible joke and I then realized that I couldn't give less of a damn if I tried.

He grinned. “Why, thanks.”

“It's for writing your thoughts in,” I explained. “I happen to think you're an incredibly wise guy, so I figure you could keep your thoughts in there, so the generations to come would have a philosopher to look up to.”

He smiled warmly at the statement. Pocketing the notebook in his large jacket, he wrapped his arms around me, and I allowed him to. He whispered in my ear, his voice quiet and a bit shaky, “Thanks, Kati... that means a lot to me. It really does.”

I had no idea that my gift would have made that much of an impact on him, he seemed ready to cry at this point. He let me go and stated “You really know me well, you know that?”

I was honored at this statement. “Well, thanks.”

James grinned again. “Anyway, my gift! I happen to have it with me, but I can't give it to you here.”

“Oh?” I blinked. “How big is this gift?”

“Bigger than anything I'd given out before.”

“...metaphorically or physically?” I was curious, after all, my house was pretty small.

“You'll have to come with me and see,” he replied deviously.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“To one of my favorite places in this known world. Violet Hill.”

“...we're in Violet Hill.”

“No, the hill, not the city.”

I chuckled at my mistake. “Oh, well of course.”

He laughed in good nature. “Well, then, shall we go?”

Before I had finished, I had opened the passenger door to his truck. He chuckled and proclaimed “Well, then, I guess we are! To Violet Hill!”

I laughed as he boldly made his way to the driver's seat, and then we were off through the small unnoticeable city that isn't as bad as I thought it'd be, and on our way to Violet Hill.

As soon as we pulled up to the parking lot just outside of the hill, I eagerly challenged him. “Race you up to the top.”

He chuckled. “Today? You up for it?”

I laughed, turning red as I admitted “I just wanna get the hell up there.”

“Oh, well okay then! At three? What do you say?”

“I'd say that I'm already halfway there!”

He laughed loudly, although I wasn't that far away from him. He started to dart after me as I scaled the hill. I was halfway up the final stretch of the hill before he was a quarter way. I looked back down with a light smirk and a wave, and let him catch up to me. In playful retaliation, upon approaching me he picked me up like one would hold a child and started to carry me up the hill. Amid my protests, I laughed, and all the while it felt so surreal. Giggling like a young schoolgirl and nothing like a grown soldier not even a year off combat. It was... renewing.

He set me down under a dead oak tree on the top, the only tree present on the hill. There was a single, bold violet amid the snow. I had to admire its tenacity to stay within the snow, its unwillingness to die down or leave as the others had for the winter.

Violet Hill was just shy of a short mountain- it was fifty miles distant of the central city but in its height of two thousand feet above the plains beneath it, was a notable enough landmark to link to its nearest city. And the view up top was remarkable. The city was a speck on the edge of an appropriate angle and all you could see was the snow. It was as if one had tripped into heaven without knowing about it.

I leaned against the barren oak with a smile as I overlooked the fields dreamily. James chuckled when he saw the glaze in my emerald eyes; he had been accustomed to how much I (apparently) drift off in my thoughts. He gently reclined my head against his shoulder, and I sighed in content. While some preferred long walks on the beach, I preferred- prefer, really- reclining on a snow covered hill. I felt the snow seep into my pants, leaving them soaked around the leg openings and scraping against my calf; even in all my practicality I hadn't thought to wear layers that day.

I guess I was just sort of excited.

"I knew you'd like it," he whispered into my ear.

"I do," I placed a hand on his lap, not quite present still.

"It is a remarkable view," he chuckled, his hand drifting over mine until it came to a stop on top of it. "During the harvest is remarkable as well. The patchwork of colors and plants really makes it quite a sight."

"I dunno," I replied, still somewhat entranced. "I like the snow, a lot."

"I figured you did," he chuckled. "You're sort of a cold person, after all."

I put enough effort into looking over at him with a raised, incriminating eyebrow. "I'm coming to find that telling a woman that she is a cold person isn't exactly what she wants to hear."

"I never said it was a bad thing," his response is devoid any defensiveness that a lesser man would have had. I like that about James; he's solid in his convictions, even if they annoy me.

"Cold is a good thing?"

He shrugged and, pulling me against his chest, added "In some ways, it can be. I dunno, it's just a lot of fun, melting your heart."

I couldn't help but be somewhat swooned by this; I'm only human after all. I softly kissed him with another giggle. My, but was I changing!

He grinned and pulled me to my feet, and about as excited as a kid showing off, pointed to the top of the tall, dead oak. "Up there! See that nest?" The conversation change was sudden, but welcome, as I looked and saw a crow roosting in a nest. I always liked crows; they were very no-nonsense. Nothing like, say, peacocks.

“You know that crow?” I asked.

He nodded fondly. “For some time now. Just through the right happenstance.”

“Did you name her?”

He looked down for a moment before saying “It's a bit... goofy, but... I named her Isadora.”

My heart ached for him, and I held his hand, comforting him with “It's a nice thought, I think.”

He smiled at me, regaining his posture again. “Anyway, I'll have you two get acquainted.”

“I'd love to,” I complied, although a part of me was still anxiously awaiting my larger than life gift.

James looked up to the nest and called "Hey, Isadora! Down here!"

Atop the nest, a small crow flew down onto James's shoulder. I was rather amused by this; she looked very... fitting, up there, as if she was there often.

"Hah, this bird has the best ability to track one's voice I've ever seen, really. I can call it anytime, anywhere, and within the hour she's on my shoulder. It's remarkable."

"Quite. Anywhere, anytime?"

"Even when I don't expect it," he added, and with a laugh, recapped "One time I was in the middle of a farmer's market when she arrived on my shoulder; twenty minutes after I had called her and forgotten about it. Scared the hell out of me! Jumped back into a big basketful of tomatoes. Very unpleasant."

I really regretted not having seen that; I was doubling over with laughter, this conjured image something that'd make me laugh just on the thought. With mock annoyance, he mocked sarcastic laughter- mocking a mocking person; quite paradoxical- and snapped "Yeah, yeah, very funny." I knew that he was just messing around, though. The smile in his eyes would give it away no matter what.

"So..." he gave me an eyebrow raise and a mischievous grin, "Wanna teach Isadora your voice?"

"Hmm?" I looked at the elegant crow meaningfully, and it was looking back at me. "How did you do it? I mean, teach her the name you gave her and everything?"

"Oh?" he allowed Isadora to take flight a few feet above us, steadily hovering near her nest. "I spent a lot of time here and so did she. I became very bored so I came up with a name and whenever I was near the crow, repeated the name towards her. Apparently she's a damn smart bird and figured it out; I can't really say. Nature confuses me."

He called her back down, and she dove down onto the shoulder. "Don't be shy, call her!" James urged me, his grin growing wider.

"Uh... how?"

"Just call her like you would someone you were looking for. Don't baby talk it like a kitten; that annoys the hell out of her." Oh, really? I like this bird already.

To give us some distance, he walked backwards so that there was a twenty foot gap between us.
"Okay," I cleared my throat and called out "Isadora!"

Isadora cocked her head at me but didn't move. Knowingly, James gave a sideways, amused look to the crow and told her "Oh? She's a friend to you. No worries." To demonstrate his lack of nature knowledge; unwitting or not, he pointed at me and gave the bird a thumbs up.

As if to say that she wasn't that dull, she pecked his hand, which he jerked back in surprise. I couldn't help but spare a laugh at that.

I tried again. "Isadora!" I called, a smile on my face.

She cocked her head but nonchalantly flew over onto my shoulder, pecking my ear without much force. I didn't bother reacting.

"Ah! She's got you in her system. Trusts you. Good progress, especially for someone so new to her! You must have a good aura!"

I chuckled, gently stroking Isadora on the top of her head. "She's a fine ally indeed. What else does she do?"

"Well, not much, but I'm not looking to train a circus act," he smiled crookedly. "I do think I shall train her on your name as well, and use her as a messenger between the both of us."

"Interesting concept..." I couldn't help but feel a fleeting omen at that statement.

James smiled again, closing the gap between us until we were less than a foot apart. I settled against his chest, and he wrapped his arm- Isadora and all- around my chest, placing his face alongside mine. To my surprise, I sighed in delight; so unlike me. It just felt very serendipitous; running into James on the roof, and just starting off so easily; so effortlessly. And I was forever thankful for it. It was... bliss, standing on the hill above a world of white with the man I loved, and I couldn't help but take in how lucky I was.

He gave me a smile and said "Well, as much as I could stay by your side forever, let's not fool ourselves. The world's out of our control and we can't be glued to each other forever, it just makes no common sense."

How frank of him. I actually liked it; he wasn't drowning in sentimentalism. I guess there are some parts of love that are practical, and it keeps it real, knowing that it's not a fairy tale and I liked that James didn't expect it to be. I wasn't that kind of girl.

"Either way, if I ever get lost from you too drastically, I'll always find my way back," a hint of world-weariness that only soldiers like ourselves could possess, and I smiled with a hint of comfort that wasn't overwhelming or with pity, just support and recognization. "Isadora here will be our link, because she can travel in a way we can't."

I thought this was extremely sweet and thanked him with a quick kiss to the cheek. He smiled and took my hand in his.

Life was about to get better.

He put my hand in his, but only for a brief moment, and before he removed his grip he planted a small kiss on my knuckle; a knuckle which was no longer bare.

I guess you could say I was shocked when I looked down to see a small, simple ring on my finger, but unlike most I didn't break down crying from ecstasy or in shock; mind you, part of me wanted to but I didn't. I looked up at him and he didn't adjust his hold on me. I smiled, a more sincere smile than I ever had before. Even in my childhood where everything was perfect. Because come what may everything seemed perfect now.

"We're getting very carried away," I chuckled, not that I cared. I had come to find that the best parts of love, the most beautiful moments, don't involve practicality, and it was a change I could adapt to.

"I don't care if you don't."

"I don't."

"Sorry the ring wasn't as nice as I'd wanted." I guess he could be considered right; the ring is simple, smooth silver, but it didn't matter to me.

"It serves its purpose," I replied, feeling the smooth surface with my thumb. "It reminds me of the snow right now."

"That's good to hear," I could hear his grin; so easy it is for me to determine his emotion. "So you'll marry me?"

"Gladly."

He smiled, and I could tell that he felt amazing having said that. I felt tears flow down my face as I admitted “You've... made me so happy.” Not exactly the most poetic of lines but it served its purpose.

“It's the least I could return.”

He held me closer to his body, pulling in for a kiss which I was happy to reciprocate. In retrospect, I look back and wonder what was so different this time. Had any of my prior romancers asked me to marry him three weeks in and I'd have probably wondered what was up with him. But, really, I didn't question things. I didn't want too. No- I didn't need to.

I think that's what made me so happy.

After the kiss, he separated from me and reclaimed the distance in order to train Isadora a bit more. I could hear him telling the dark avian as he gestured to me "That's Kati. My dearest companion. I want you to pay attention to her, because she's going to be as important to you as she is to me. When I tell you 'find Kati'," he gestured to me again, with a soaring hand similar to a bird's flight, "I want you to fly off from me and find her, no matter the distance." Such a strenuous order was followed by a friendly, trusting "Think you can do that, Izzy?"

In response, she flew back over to me with a triumphant caw. James gave her a thumbs up and said "That's the spirit. Isadora, back here!"

She gracefully glided onto his shoulder with another caw. One last time, he told her "Find Kati." She instantly made her way back to me.

"Okay, Kati, train her to find me!" James called.

I nodded and faced the bird. "Okay, Isadora. Just like James sent you to me, I want you to find James when I say, 'Find James.'" With a thankful sigh, I add "Thank you, Isadora. You have no idea how much this means to me." And it did mean so much, to have such a smart, willing creature that would bridge the gap between us. I stroked her feathers one last time before telling her "Find James."

She cawed and flew back to her trainer. I swear, she was smiling as much as a bird could.

We spent a minute playing crow tennis, so to speak. Having her fly back and forth between us. A lesser bird would get frustrated and probably lash out, but Isadora cheerfully complied. After we were sure she got it, James came back over to me and accepted her perch on his shoulder.

"We're as lucky as it gets," he spoke fondly. "This crow is smarter than I ever imagined birds could be. She understands our tongue, she's loyal, she complies with a good spirit; really, animals are more intelligent than humans sometimes."

"You're a vegetarian." Not a question, a statement.

"Indeed," he replied. He didn't go on to preach, thank God, but I knew I was never going to be able to eat chicken again.

He faced me again, a bit apprehensive, and asked “This... probably sounds ridiculous, but... do you think Isadora could be a spirit guide?”

“A what?” I wasn't surprised, I just wasn't sure what he meant.

“You know... a spirit guide. She... acts a lot like Isadora did, I mean, for a bird. She can do things no other bird can, for me. For us. It's... it just makes you wonder.”

I sighed. “I'm sorry... that's not really my forte. I'm not a big believer in mythical and mystical stuff like that. It's not really my thing, I like things more grounded.”

“Oh, yeah,” he chuckled nervously, a bit dejected. “No problem, I didn't take that into account.” He wasn't bitter when he said that. Disappointed, yes, but not bitter.

“If it helps,” I awkwardly stated, “I won't discount the idea.” In truth, the idea was a nice one, and I rather fancied it.

“That sounds nice. Thank you, Kati.”

I smile, taking his hand into mine. “She is an amazing bird.”

“Isadora truly is.”

I couldn't help but smile as he boasted about her. It was touching to speak so fondly of his companion, in what could possibly be the same person in two forms. True, not as fondly as he felt of me, but it truly stuck. I understood what he meant of opportunity; he turned a running into a bird and discovered something so much more- the glue that would hold our relationship together if necessary.

It was the example of how, despite how fast we got into things, this was going to work. I was truly convinced. It felt amazing to have things work out so well, and it truly couldn't get any better.

Unfortunately, that did mean that it could get worse.

Part 3
The Bank Cathedral

It was a long and dark December. The last week was the longest of all.

I should have seen the downturn in our fortunes coming; the snow was no longer pure and dirt chunks were seeping in. It had become rather gray the day I walked down North Cemetery Drive.

In school, I remember my third grade history teacher talking about how Desin used to be a peaceful nation that avoided war. I had told my teacher "That can't be right." The idea was so flabbergasting that I debated the teacher for a few minutes before being sent to the principal's office. Really, though, I think I had said what everybody was thinking. Desin's feud with Fraise was about ridiculous; not that it mattered to me, really.

Not that you'd expect much different from a place where the biggest building in one of its largest cities was on North Cemetery Drive.

On the twenty-seventh I was walking into the Violet Hill Credit Union, to draw some more out of my dwindling savings account. When I stepped in the door and the electronic, lifeless ding-dong rang through my ears, it echoed through the room. It was not lively with polite chatter as was the norm. In fact, the teller in his booth had his head bowed, and on the floor, in chairs, were people knelt, head down.

They were praying. The bank had practically become a cathedral.

The teller was leading the session. I didn't hear him very well, but on a hopelessly strewn newspaper I read the headline- Tensions with Fraise at All Time High! It was not sounding good. I picked up the cover and started to read.

I had only seen the lines "After a brutal attack on Maylin, King Jasper declares that he shall rally his forces in another attack-" when I heard the teller mutter "please, God, be with all our returning servicemen" when I piece two and two together and, panicked, run out the door, leaving the newspaper and its curse to rot in hell for all I cared.

I started running up Cemetery Drive, hoping for an escape, any escape. For this not to have been happening. As I passed 42 North Cemetery Drive, I saw that James's car was parked; a small, slender blue truck with a modern feel. I opened the door without a word and he started driving away.

It was like on the roof; we weren't surprised to see each other here. We just knew.

On our way up to what I knew was to be Violet Hill, neither of us spoke. How could we start that conversation? I couldn't even admit to myself that he and I would be going back into military service.

Our walk to the tree was silent. No giggling as he swept me off my feet and up the hill. The world had just become a burden instead of a sanctuary. How I wish I could fly above it all, away from everyone, everything, except James. I never wanted to admit that I needed a man; I was too proud of a feminist for that, but I did need him, even if I didn't depend on him physically, emotionally I did, just as he did on me. He was part of my life, part of me. It was just being human, I suppose. And I knew he depended on me as well, so it balanced out.

We collapsed wearily under the broken shade of the bare branches. The violet was still there, and I desperately wished that, like it, I could stay. Not be moved back into the battles. Covered up and killed by war, and not necessarily physically.

Not to fight from beginning to end, living in constant terror of whether I'd live through the night and then have to worry about James as well. Not having to kill more people and their love having to suffer their loss. No having to worry if James would be pierced by a more successful bullet than the one from before. Not having to worry about being another loss for him.

Not to have to cycle recycled revenge. I didn't want to kill more people because they killed someone on our side when we're all being forced into this anyways. I didn't want to care about who killed my parents; he wasn't worth my time, my soul. I'd always respect my parents' memory, but not by suffering.

I didn't want to follow death and all of his friends; revenge, transparency, hardening of the heart, loss of self.

I don't want to follow death and all of his friends.

I can't.

He reclined my head against his shoulder, and it felt all the more painful since I knew it wasn't going to happen again for a long time. Even on the slight chance that we did stay together through the battles, there would be no way we would be able to truly be together, to love. This was war; you couldn't be weak through war.

I never found the nerve to speak. The only time I tried, I fell apart, dissolving into tears. I never wanted to cry; to be so weak. I didn't want to be falling apart like this. But I couldn't help the pain this caused, and it was overwhelming. He didn't question or respond; he simply held me as close as he could and gently squeezed my hand as my walls crumbled. I thought it would release my burden but it just made me feel worse.

That first day, we never spoke of our fate. We couldn't. We were trying desperately to sort through it all. I never broke down like this afterward.

The next few days we accepted it. Promised to never drift apart, even miles and miles away. That Isadora would, after all, be an emergency link since we wouldn't be a world apart. We would still be in Desin, so we at least had that. We'd go through the motions of war and hope it was over soon, and visit during our off-time. He got a matching ring to mine. We were determined this would work.

On the last day of the long and dark December, we were recruited by Desin's army. We were separated to different forts. And the battles began.

Prologue
The Escapists

It was the worst decision I ever had made.

It took everything in me not to break down during the battles. I was required to grow the hard shell again, and that was the last thing I wanted to do, but I wouldn't make it through the war otherwise.
In desperation, three weeks in, I punched an officer in an attempt to be honorably discharged. But Desin doesn't lose soldiers that way. Instead they gave me three days solitary confinement. It was the most painful experience in my life. It left me hollow afterward, which was hard to shake off. Thirst for war aside, the Desin army wasn't evil or anything, it was practical. Doing what it must for war. And I hated them for it.

When I noticed that I was hardening again, returning to my former self, I knew I couldn't stay here any longer under any circumstances.

And so I escape the camp.

It was simple to do. Desin doesn't like to suffocate its army so it doesn't do an extreme job at keeping us in check, and I am able to sneak out easily. When I am sure I am a distance away, I run. I run for two straight hours, straight ahead, and my mind is full of worry. What if he's still in camp, not sharing my mad rationale? What if I truly lose him? It is the only time I will ever doubt him, but circumstance has a big play in that doubt.

And then I stop. I stop in my tracks and call her.

"Isadora!" I call in the barren fields. "Isa-"

I am interrupted by her crashing into me, causing me to lose my balance but not fall over. I'm surprised by how close by she is.

I smile, petting her feathers. "You're amazing, Is," I tell her.

She responds my dropping a paper in my open hand. I feel it as it descends, and glance at it. It's the beautiful, wise parchment paper I had given to him on Christmas morning. Eagerly, I open it. What I read makes all my reconstructing walls tumble, my doubts fade and my heart shine.

"And in the end, I lie awake and dream of making our escape.
I've just started to put it into action.
-JL."

Call it serendipity, a friend I had by now welcomed, call it fate, call it the bond between us lovers. But he was out. And we were going to escape. I try not to cry and compose myself.

I face the bird, and I am so proud of her. So glad I have her, that she is our spirit guide after all. I tell her "Find James." She responds by flying off her perch, and, knowingly, flying at a speed I could keep up with.

We are going to make it. We are going to escape. I don't know where, I don't know how, and I don't know when I'd see him again, but goddamnit, I wasn't going to lose him. Or lose me. Lose us.

Death and all his friends would never catch us. They may try, but we would be victorious. I felt as though we could live forever. And somehow, we would. Like Isadora.

My mother had said once that I should strive to 'viva la vida'. She was in the garden, picking tomatoes and surrounded my a small swarm of bees she was sparring against, yet she was laughing while I was screaming for her safety. I didn't know what it meant at first, but I'd come to find that it meant "Live the Life." She wanted me to find the best moments in everything, to strive to make life enjoyable.

And back then, I dismissed it as a sweet little trinket from mother to daughter. But when she died, I simultaneously noticed how she had the disposition of one that enjoyed life even at its worst, and shrunk into such a shell of myself that I never did what she had asked. James was a man who understood her disposition, and who went out of his way to make sure I enjoyed my life.

I will not lose that again. Today, I will honor my parents' legacy. Even if it becomes the hardest thing I ever do, and I lose hope and faith, somehow, someway, I will always viva la vida.

Well, that's draft two. I'd appreciate some feedback! Thanks again for reading!

MoD

[GMDragon11]

Spoilers would be nice. On the other hand, good story . Or was it great.

[MessengerOfDreams]

Spoilers?

[GMDragon11]

Yes, spoilers. You know what spoilers are...

[Avo]

This story in no way needs spoilers. Spoilers aren't necessary in a story.