I know it's likely that no one here is familiar with the fandom, or cares very little about it, but I'm posting this here anyway, because I think that even those who have never seen this movie will be able to understand this fic, and because I'd really like to know what people thought of it. So there you go. Enjoy, and leave a comment even if you didn't like it, please! Don't worry, I actually like flames. ^^
Summary: I was once told that a person will only ever have one great love in a lifetime. This was mine.
Disclaimer: Vision of Escaflowne isn’t mine. This piece, its plot and OCs, however, are.
T O R U S H I N A
A Vision of Escaflowne - A Girl In Gaea fanfiction
01: First Vision
I was once told that a person will only ever have one great love in a lifetime. You see, people aren’t particularly good for the Gods to grant us more than that. Even so, it’s proof of the Great Creators’ mercy and kindness that they extend this gift equally to all who live under the sun and moons.
I can attest to the truth in these words, for I have experienced it first hand.
It happened decades ago, when I was a young woman still entering adulthood, and trying to survive in the aftermath of the war that nearly destroyed Gaea. My brother, the leader of one of the factions, the Abaharaki, had sent me away to stay with some old family acquaintances in a remote little village, away from civilization and the dangers of war, but also far from everything and everyone I knew and loved.
It was a peaceful afternoon, not long after the Black Dragon Clan had been officially defeated, when four weary riders found their way into that old, rickety town...
Summary: I was once told that a person will only ever have one great love in a lifetime. This was mine.
Disclaimer: Vision of Escaflowne isn’t mine. This piece, its plot and OCs, however, are.
T O R U S H I N A
A Vision of Escaflowne - A Girl In Gaea fanfiction
01: First Vision
I was once told that a person will only ever have one great love in a lifetime. You see, people aren’t particularly good for the Gods to grant us more than that. Even so, it’s proof of the Great Creators’ mercy and kindness that they extend this gift equally to all who live under the sun and moons.
I can attest to the truth in these words, for I have experienced it first hand.
It happened decades ago, when I was a young woman still entering adulthood, and trying to survive in the aftermath of the war that nearly destroyed Gaea. My brother, the leader of one of the factions, the Abaharaki, had sent me away to stay with some old family acquaintances in a remote little village, away from civilization and the dangers of war, but also far from everything and everyone I knew and loved.
It was a peaceful afternoon, not long after the Black Dragon Clan had been officially defeated, when four weary riders found their way into that old, rickety town...
*
The unnamed village had been a stage of war only months prior, and its ravaging passage was plain to see. Cracked buildings sprung on each side of the litter-strewn streets like long-abused stumped dwarfs, for all their resilience, incapable of offering comfort even to those who called them "home".
The after-effects were also felt on people. The men wandering by gave the mounted party a wide berth for passage, regarding them and their swords with distrust. Women kept their heads lowered, and a protective arm around their younglings' shoulders to stave off their enthusiasm at the rare sight of horses and any impulse they might have had to run over to the strangers. Most of them were probably not even natives, the leader of the riders knew, but refugees from other countries, who had tried to escape the war by hiding in this Gods-forsaken place. All of them were afraid that the newcomers would bring unwanted trouble into their relatively tranquil lives.
The travellers' mounts were reeking of stale sweat and grime by the time their masters led them into a stable. Homeless families took cover even there, making use of any and all spots of relative shelter they could find and benefiting from the palfrenier's lack of business. Dismounting, the travellers paid them little attention, even when a small group of hopeful children came over to ask for some food or water, staring at their possessions with wonder.
The sounds of a forming commotion on the street was suddenly heard through the termite-infested walls. Voices were being raised and some shouts cut through the general noise. The travellers inside paused and shared a meaningful look. Dreading what might follow, they turned to their leader, who was calmly relieving his horse of saddle and provisions, waiting to hear if there would be any change in the plans.
"Shesta, are you still sure about what you said before we got here?" the leader asked casually without turning from his work, having sensed his companions' silence behind him.
The addressed young man - a short blond who wore an outdated bowl-like hair cut that did little to hide the strange symbol tattooed on his forehead - let his shoulders sag and lowered his head. His straight hair fell forward to hide his face from view, but any one of his three friends had seen him perform the very same action enough times to know exactly what was going on behind the fair tresses.
Shesta was a seer, which meant the gods had gifted him with special psychic powers. What exactly those powers entailed, no one but the seer himself - and possibly their leader - knew, for the others had never questioned the blond. It was a subject that made them nervous. Shesta was also the youngest of their group, however that did nothing to lessen his companions’ respect towards him - if anything, it made them more protective of him.
Each time their friend entered a state of trance to make use of his abilities as he was doing at the moment, the group held their breath, unwilling to disturb the supernatural spectacle due to a mixture of trepidation, superstition and curiosity as to what the little blond's powers would reveal this time.
Shesta trembled as if they were at the top of a snow-covered mountain, and yet the sun was glaring strongly from above. His breath hitched and, with what looked like a tremendous effort, he gasped out: "I see peace... their minds are clear... no one recognises us... Lord Dilandau..."
"Good. I would hate to go through Chatal all over again," he laughed, dismissing the true depth of what had just transpired and turning to lend Shesta a supporting shoulder. The boy was always exhausted after Seeing anything. "Well, what are you two waiting for? Get our things, we're going to look for somewhere where we can rest."
"Yes, Lord Dilandau!" The remaining two chorused and gladly followed their companions out of the shack-building. They were imagining what it would be like to sleep again in beds with nice, clean sheets after weeks on the road. They didn't even mind carrying the two extra packs.
After leaving the horses behind in the hands of hired caretakers, they could finally see what all the agitation in the street had been about. A caravan full of provisions had just arrived, and most of the townspeople were helping to unload and hand out the medical supplies, food and basic necessities for the refugee camps based on the outskirts of town.
"What a mess," Dilandau commented, voice laced with disdain.
"There are so many of them..." Gatti said, in reference to the amount of dislocated families to whom the goods were being distributed. "I never imagined..."
"Yeah, wonder how they can all fit in this tiny little hell-hole," Ryuon remarked, looking on all the activity with distaste. "By the Goddess' pearls, I can't wait till we get back to civilization!"
"Better get used to it, buddy," Gatti countered, Ryuon's reaction not surprising him in the least. After all, his purple-haired friend had been born and bred amongst the finesse of the Empire's aristocracy. "By the looks of things so far, we might have to spend quite some more time roaming these out-of-the-way towns."
"Ack, Gatti, shut up! Don't jinx it! Our luck's bad enough as it is... Lord Dilandau, we are leaving in the morning, right?" asked the Slayer hopefully.
"I haven't decided yet. I want to see how we're treated here first. We'll probably stay for a few days, if the food and beds are good."
At this point, a little kid running after his dog bumped into Ryuon and almost sent him and his bags tumbling onto the dirt. Luckily for him, Gatti was behind him to steady him, so it was the sandy-haired Slayer who lost his balance instead.
"Aw, man, he touched me! I bet he passed me all kinds of stupid diseases," the purple-haired ex-soldier grumbled, dropping his bags so he could dust himself off. "Please, Lord Dilandau, after we eat, can we leave? Even sleeping on the road beats this!"
Dilandau's eye twitched in preparation for a heated reply - his Slayer almost appeared to be coming out of his way to incense his travel-worn patience - but it was Shesta who delicately answered.
"Ryuon, we've been riding for at least a week now. The horses are so tired they cannot go any further, and honestly neither can I. Besides, Gatti is right. With everything that's happening on Torushina, we should stay out of sight for a while longer, which is why we've been avoiding all the big cities."
"Fine... "
Ryuon tried making his peace with his luck, but Shesta noticed the bulge on each of his cheeks that meant he was gritting his teeth and gave him an encouraging smile. Gatti had apparently tuned out the conversation right after his trip to the ground, and was instead absorbed in gazing round at the troubled faces of the refugees.
As the leader, Dilandau was trying to look over everyone's heads, scouting for the inn or any place that looked like it could serve a decent meal. After much peering and some asking around on Shesta's and Gatti's part, the four remaining Dragon Slayers managed to track down a house that displayed an ancient-looking sign at the front window spelling the phrase "rums for rent".
"See? It's not so bad, they have drinks," whispered Shesta close to Ryuon's ear as they walked in. The second Slayer just gave him an odd look, not really sharing in his friend's humour.
The ground floor turned out to be a pub, with round, wooden tables big enough for mugs, but too small for plates, spread throughout the room. A staircase at the farthest wall led upstairs, presumably to where the "rums" were located. The keeper stood behind the counter wiping some glasses with a rag that had seen better days, and he turned his attention from his stuporous patrons to the new costumers when he heard the doorbell jingle.
"Ah, newcomers," he exclaimed, approaching the group. Despite his wide grin, Dilandau's well-trained eye had no trouble catching the telltale signs that the man was less than comfortable with the entrance of four armed strangers into his establishment. "What will it be?"
The silver-haired Captain stood silent, appraising the location and trying to decide how likely it was for them to be attacked in the middle of the night should they stay, or whether or not the food served there would be edible. Seeing that their leader wasn't about to say anything soon and that the innkeeper was stealing nervous glances at their swords, Gatti, as second-in-command, decided to step forward.
"Do you have any rooms available?" he inquired. Put at ease by his far from threatening tone of voice, the man was more than happy to focus his attention on the light-haired Slayer and talk to him.
"Why, yes, young master! I've two rooms on the first floor, with two beds with fresh clean sheets each, just waiting to be taken. Our cook is also here, in case you'd like a nice, hot meal before heading up." The man tried being charming at this point and widened his grin, only for Ryuon to cringe at the back of the group at the sight of his teeth. He whispered something about refusing to eat the same thing as the innkeeper, but the others either didn't hear him or they ignored him - which was far more likely.
"How much for the night and food?" Dilandau interjected.
"Four hundred pieces," he said. Noticing how three of his customers-to-be widened their eyes in shock, he hastily added, "Please understand, these are difficult times. There are few patrons, and I have a family and employers to look after."
Uncaring of the man's arguments, but suddenly feeling the full weight of their travels on his shoulders, now that he had allowed himself to stop, Dilandau sighed and acquiesced.
"Two rooms and four warm meals, then. Can you arrange to bring the food up to the rooms?"
"Why, certainly, sir," the keeper beamed, suddenly unafraid of Dilandau or any swords on the party's belts. "If you'll just step up to the counter, so we can set up everything?"
The after-effects were also felt on people. The men wandering by gave the mounted party a wide berth for passage, regarding them and their swords with distrust. Women kept their heads lowered, and a protective arm around their younglings' shoulders to stave off their enthusiasm at the rare sight of horses and any impulse they might have had to run over to the strangers. Most of them were probably not even natives, the leader of the riders knew, but refugees from other countries, who had tried to escape the war by hiding in this Gods-forsaken place. All of them were afraid that the newcomers would bring unwanted trouble into their relatively tranquil lives.
The travellers' mounts were reeking of stale sweat and grime by the time their masters led them into a stable. Homeless families took cover even there, making use of any and all spots of relative shelter they could find and benefiting from the palfrenier's lack of business. Dismounting, the travellers paid them little attention, even when a small group of hopeful children came over to ask for some food or water, staring at their possessions with wonder.
The sounds of a forming commotion on the street was suddenly heard through the termite-infested walls. Voices were being raised and some shouts cut through the general noise. The travellers inside paused and shared a meaningful look. Dreading what might follow, they turned to their leader, who was calmly relieving his horse of saddle and provisions, waiting to hear if there would be any change in the plans.
"Shesta, are you still sure about what you said before we got here?" the leader asked casually without turning from his work, having sensed his companions' silence behind him.
The addressed young man - a short blond who wore an outdated bowl-like hair cut that did little to hide the strange symbol tattooed on his forehead - let his shoulders sag and lowered his head. His straight hair fell forward to hide his face from view, but any one of his three friends had seen him perform the very same action enough times to know exactly what was going on behind the fair tresses.
Shesta was a seer, which meant the gods had gifted him with special psychic powers. What exactly those powers entailed, no one but the seer himself - and possibly their leader - knew, for the others had never questioned the blond. It was a subject that made them nervous. Shesta was also the youngest of their group, however that did nothing to lessen his companions’ respect towards him - if anything, it made them more protective of him.
Each time their friend entered a state of trance to make use of his abilities as he was doing at the moment, the group held their breath, unwilling to disturb the supernatural spectacle due to a mixture of trepidation, superstition and curiosity as to what the little blond's powers would reveal this time.
Shesta trembled as if they were at the top of a snow-covered mountain, and yet the sun was glaring strongly from above. His breath hitched and, with what looked like a tremendous effort, he gasped out: "I see peace... their minds are clear... no one recognises us... Lord Dilandau..."
"Good. I would hate to go through Chatal all over again," he laughed, dismissing the true depth of what had just transpired and turning to lend Shesta a supporting shoulder. The boy was always exhausted after Seeing anything. "Well, what are you two waiting for? Get our things, we're going to look for somewhere where we can rest."
"Yes, Lord Dilandau!" The remaining two chorused and gladly followed their companions out of the shack-building. They were imagining what it would be like to sleep again in beds with nice, clean sheets after weeks on the road. They didn't even mind carrying the two extra packs.
After leaving the horses behind in the hands of hired caretakers, they could finally see what all the agitation in the street had been about. A caravan full of provisions had just arrived, and most of the townspeople were helping to unload and hand out the medical supplies, food and basic necessities for the refugee camps based on the outskirts of town.
"What a mess," Dilandau commented, voice laced with disdain.
"There are so many of them..." Gatti said, in reference to the amount of dislocated families to whom the goods were being distributed. "I never imagined..."
"Yeah, wonder how they can all fit in this tiny little hell-hole," Ryuon remarked, looking on all the activity with distaste. "By the Goddess' pearls, I can't wait till we get back to civilization!"
"Better get used to it, buddy," Gatti countered, Ryuon's reaction not surprising him in the least. After all, his purple-haired friend had been born and bred amongst the finesse of the Empire's aristocracy. "By the looks of things so far, we might have to spend quite some more time roaming these out-of-the-way towns."
"Ack, Gatti, shut up! Don't jinx it! Our luck's bad enough as it is... Lord Dilandau, we are leaving in the morning, right?" asked the Slayer hopefully.
"I haven't decided yet. I want to see how we're treated here first. We'll probably stay for a few days, if the food and beds are good."
At this point, a little kid running after his dog bumped into Ryuon and almost sent him and his bags tumbling onto the dirt. Luckily for him, Gatti was behind him to steady him, so it was the sandy-haired Slayer who lost his balance instead.
"Aw, man, he touched me! I bet he passed me all kinds of stupid diseases," the purple-haired ex-soldier grumbled, dropping his bags so he could dust himself off. "Please, Lord Dilandau, after we eat, can we leave? Even sleeping on the road beats this!"
Dilandau's eye twitched in preparation for a heated reply - his Slayer almost appeared to be coming out of his way to incense his travel-worn patience - but it was Shesta who delicately answered.
"Ryuon, we've been riding for at least a week now. The horses are so tired they cannot go any further, and honestly neither can I. Besides, Gatti is right. With everything that's happening on Torushina, we should stay out of sight for a while longer, which is why we've been avoiding all the big cities."
"Fine... "
Ryuon tried making his peace with his luck, but Shesta noticed the bulge on each of his cheeks that meant he was gritting his teeth and gave him an encouraging smile. Gatti had apparently tuned out the conversation right after his trip to the ground, and was instead absorbed in gazing round at the troubled faces of the refugees.
As the leader, Dilandau was trying to look over everyone's heads, scouting for the inn or any place that looked like it could serve a decent meal. After much peering and some asking around on Shesta's and Gatti's part, the four remaining Dragon Slayers managed to track down a house that displayed an ancient-looking sign at the front window spelling the phrase "rums for rent".
"See? It's not so bad, they have drinks," whispered Shesta close to Ryuon's ear as they walked in. The second Slayer just gave him an odd look, not really sharing in his friend's humour.
The ground floor turned out to be a pub, with round, wooden tables big enough for mugs, but too small for plates, spread throughout the room. A staircase at the farthest wall led upstairs, presumably to where the "rums" were located. The keeper stood behind the counter wiping some glasses with a rag that had seen better days, and he turned his attention from his stuporous patrons to the new costumers when he heard the doorbell jingle.
"Ah, newcomers," he exclaimed, approaching the group. Despite his wide grin, Dilandau's well-trained eye had no trouble catching the telltale signs that the man was less than comfortable with the entrance of four armed strangers into his establishment. "What will it be?"
The silver-haired Captain stood silent, appraising the location and trying to decide how likely it was for them to be attacked in the middle of the night should they stay, or whether or not the food served there would be edible. Seeing that their leader wasn't about to say anything soon and that the innkeeper was stealing nervous glances at their swords, Gatti, as second-in-command, decided to step forward.
"Do you have any rooms available?" he inquired. Put at ease by his far from threatening tone of voice, the man was more than happy to focus his attention on the light-haired Slayer and talk to him.
"Why, yes, young master! I've two rooms on the first floor, with two beds with fresh clean sheets each, just waiting to be taken. Our cook is also here, in case you'd like a nice, hot meal before heading up." The man tried being charming at this point and widened his grin, only for Ryuon to cringe at the back of the group at the sight of his teeth. He whispered something about refusing to eat the same thing as the innkeeper, but the others either didn't hear him or they ignored him - which was far more likely.
"How much for the night and food?" Dilandau interjected.
"Four hundred pieces," he said. Noticing how three of his customers-to-be widened their eyes in shock, he hastily added, "Please understand, these are difficult times. There are few patrons, and I have a family and employers to look after."
Uncaring of the man's arguments, but suddenly feeling the full weight of their travels on his shoulders, now that he had allowed himself to stop, Dilandau sighed and acquiesced.
"Two rooms and four warm meals, then. Can you arrange to bring the food up to the rooms?"
"Why, certainly, sir," the keeper beamed, suddenly unafraid of Dilandau or any swords on the party's belts. "If you'll just step up to the counter, so we can set up everything?"
*
"Hot meal, my a**!" Ryuon was to be found huffing indignantly one hour later, while chewing on a piece of meat. "I've had warmer and better food on the road!" The two other Slayers gave off indication that they agreed, by either humming or nodding.
The group of four was relaxing in the same room, plates and trays of food and drinks strewn about within easy reach of any of the occupants. Ryuon was half-sitting, half-lying on one of the beds, hogging a tray, while Gatti had stolen all his pillows and was sitting comfortably on the floor, munching on a turkey leg. On the bed across theirs sat Shesta, neatly perched at the foot and sipping from a glass of juice - occasionally stealing a potato from Gatti's plate - and Dilandau. The silver-haired captain had put up a pillow against the wall and was currently leaning on it. His garnet eyes were shut and he appeared to be deep in thought.
"Ack! And this meat is almost raw! How can anyone be expected to eat this?" Ryuon continued.
"Now you're just complaining for the sake of it, Ryuon," Gatti replied in-between bites.
"No, I'm not! Try it! And to think we were charged four hundred pieces for this... the nerve!"
"Lord Dilandau," Shesta spoke quietly close to his face, deciding to let the other two bad-mouth their tiredness away in the background. "Is everything alright?"
The Captain cracked his eyes just enough so he could look at the fair-haired seer from under snowy eyelashes and sighed. Shesta worried even more; he did not remember ever seeing their usually unflappable leader looking so weary.
"Shouldn't you be the one to know that, Shesta?" he replied half-heartedly, in no way lessening his Slayer’s worries. "We are running short on money. We'll have to find a paying job tomorrow." Catching on to their leader's discussion of plans for the future, the other two Slayers quietened to listen in.
"Do we have enough to afford another night?" the Slayer asked in his dulcet tone.
"Just one more, what with the horses and the stables. Heh, we could probably take on the whole village, but I'd rather not resort to pushing these hicks around just yet. Don't want us to end up getting kicked out like in Chatal."
The trio listening in collectively cringed, remembering the incident Dilandau was referring to all too well. Shesta was the first one to recover, flashing their silver-haired leader an amiable smile.
"Ryuon and I will be on the look out downstairs tomorrow. One of the patrons is bound to have a need for four pairs of hands, or know someone who does. Don't worry, Lord Dilandau, my visions told me we would do fine here."
"Good. And while you two are at it, Gatti and I will take a look around town, possibly find somewhere where we won't have to dish out this much money a night. We should make good use of your favourable predictions and stay in town for some time. It'll be hard to find places that welcome us from here on out."
Despite the ominous forecast, Shesta's smile held firm. Realising how truly tired their Captain was, he cued the others to clear away the food and let Dilandau rest. Before leaving himself, though, Shesta left the red-eyed Captain with one more thought for the night:
"When we were still in the Black Dragon's Army, sir, you always looked after us Dragon Slayers. And nothing's changed since then, even if we're no longer bound to you in the same way. So don't worry, lord Dilandau, you could never fail us. We trust in you."
After closing the door behind him, Shesta distinctly heard Dilandau mutter back at him to "stop being such a wimp". He smiled, taking no offence at his Captain's rebuke. After all, the seer had always been the most sensitive one in the group and every one of the Dragon Slayers knew what their Captain was like.
The group of four was relaxing in the same room, plates and trays of food and drinks strewn about within easy reach of any of the occupants. Ryuon was half-sitting, half-lying on one of the beds, hogging a tray, while Gatti had stolen all his pillows and was sitting comfortably on the floor, munching on a turkey leg. On the bed across theirs sat Shesta, neatly perched at the foot and sipping from a glass of juice - occasionally stealing a potato from Gatti's plate - and Dilandau. The silver-haired captain had put up a pillow against the wall and was currently leaning on it. His garnet eyes were shut and he appeared to be deep in thought.
"Ack! And this meat is almost raw! How can anyone be expected to eat this?" Ryuon continued.
"Now you're just complaining for the sake of it, Ryuon," Gatti replied in-between bites.
"No, I'm not! Try it! And to think we were charged four hundred pieces for this... the nerve!"
"Lord Dilandau," Shesta spoke quietly close to his face, deciding to let the other two bad-mouth their tiredness away in the background. "Is everything alright?"
The Captain cracked his eyes just enough so he could look at the fair-haired seer from under snowy eyelashes and sighed. Shesta worried even more; he did not remember ever seeing their usually unflappable leader looking so weary.
"Shouldn't you be the one to know that, Shesta?" he replied half-heartedly, in no way lessening his Slayer’s worries. "We are running short on money. We'll have to find a paying job tomorrow." Catching on to their leader's discussion of plans for the future, the other two Slayers quietened to listen in.
"Do we have enough to afford another night?" the Slayer asked in his dulcet tone.
"Just one more, what with the horses and the stables. Heh, we could probably take on the whole village, but I'd rather not resort to pushing these hicks around just yet. Don't want us to end up getting kicked out like in Chatal."
The trio listening in collectively cringed, remembering the incident Dilandau was referring to all too well. Shesta was the first one to recover, flashing their silver-haired leader an amiable smile.
"Ryuon and I will be on the look out downstairs tomorrow. One of the patrons is bound to have a need for four pairs of hands, or know someone who does. Don't worry, Lord Dilandau, my visions told me we would do fine here."
"Good. And while you two are at it, Gatti and I will take a look around town, possibly find somewhere where we won't have to dish out this much money a night. We should make good use of your favourable predictions and stay in town for some time. It'll be hard to find places that welcome us from here on out."
Despite the ominous forecast, Shesta's smile held firm. Realising how truly tired their Captain was, he cued the others to clear away the food and let Dilandau rest. Before leaving himself, though, Shesta left the red-eyed Captain with one more thought for the night:
"When we were still in the Black Dragon's Army, sir, you always looked after us Dragon Slayers. And nothing's changed since then, even if we're no longer bound to you in the same way. So don't worry, lord Dilandau, you could never fail us. We trust in you."
After closing the door behind him, Shesta distinctly heard Dilandau mutter back at him to "stop being such a wimp". He smiled, taking no offence at his Captain's rebuke. After all, the seer had always been the most sensitive one in the group and every one of the Dragon Slayers knew what their Captain was like.
