(no subject)

[falsevengeance.livejournal.com]

Who: Maiyah and Braska
When: Mid-day
Where: Calm Lands
What: Maiyah gazes over the Calm Lands with a little contempt.
Rating: G for now.



There wasn't too much to be had in the Calm Lands anymore. It was disappointing even, at how the once peaceful plateau has been marauded by the sickening concept of thoughtless tourism. The Calm Lands had once been a ground with meaning, stained with righteous blood and scarred by the forthcoming of justice. It was a land of sacrifice, where the selfless summoners summoned their Final Aeons and tried their hands at finally ridding the world of Sin once and for all. It was a sacred land... upon which these people sauntered and swaggered, pockets full of gil and nothing but the desire for entertainment upon their shoulders.

Perhaps Maiyah took this all a tad too seriously. Perhaps she was too sensitive to the changing times, to the lack of consideration for the sanctity of such places of people seemed to hold now that Sin was gone. It was as if the times of the Summoners and the terrible trauma of Sin had never happened. Sin was gone and it was good, yes, but this, Maiyah felt, was taking it all too far. She stayed away from he Hovers, the agencies that pestered her to buy their credits and participate in their exploitative games. She would much rather fight a wolf-type fiend for food and exercise than to bid on which out of a group would win a pointless race.

Her stop in the Calm Lands would hopefully be a short one. Mount Gagazet was a peaceful area, one that she respected as much as the Ronso. There were things she wished to think about, and while she normally would have meditated in the Macalania Wood, its slow descent into nothingness made it noticeably difficult to concentrate. The fullness of the wood and the enclosure of the ceiling of the canopy had once filled her with a sense of privacy, even as fiends wandered around her along with the musical forest folk, it was always peaceful in its mysteriousness. Mount Gagazet seemed to be her last sanctuary, including the rifts of the mountain that overlooked the ancient necropolis. She did not dare set foot in Zanarkand, though she longed to, not feeling the least bit worthy to set virgin foot to weathered soil.

She brushed such thoughts off as she sat upon the rolling plateaus, cross-legged and blades at her sides. She overlooked the plains, eyes passing easily over hovers in the distance, and watching fiends as they went on about their lives. Wolves and Coeurls hunted the wild Chocobos, stalking the best they could in the short grass. She sat there with her small pack, a piece of fruit held in her hand up to her lips. She took small, juicy bites from it, sucking lightly on the lingering juice. She sat back, leaning back with her arm locked at the elbow with palm planted flat against the grass.