commoner to king

  Only those close to the top are rewarded without trying.                                      It’s the way of the world.

( independent Delita Heiral from final fantasy tactics )

Ovelia could tell that her words took him by surprise. Her fellow sisters offered words of comfort and praise to reassure all who came here. A fancy delusion to offer sweet nothings that their hard labor would help form the kingdom into the powerhouse it once used to be. Smarter than that or perhaps offering the same honesty he gave her Ovelia felt no sense in mincing the truth in the matter. To her they were equals, equals with a hunger for more than what life laid out before them.

Ovelia heard how some of the sisters who came from nobler families spoke of commoners. It saddened her to her core, teachings of love and acceptance fell on deaf ears. That when they spoke their soft prayers it was often interpreted as a two faced demeanor to her.  Within these walls Ovelia could attempt to try and show that the royal family did truly care about the people. Why else was she sent here if to not show compassion and integrity? These people worked themselves to the core, farming, blacksmithing, tailoring. A tireless life with sweat and blood being poured into it to make a life worth living. It was often thankless, from what she could tell, but to deny that they were less because of their blood? 

Laughter bubbled out of her, louder than she anticipated coming out. She meant not to belittle him but it was very solid now that he truly had no idea who he was speaking to. It would happen time to time when she would speak to those who did not know of her status would realize halfway through their conversations. Throwing themselves on the floor, bowing and begging for forgiveness for speaking so freely to her in such a manner. 

“Sometimes I think the stake is higher for those around me than myself. For me this is all I will ever know, unless I am called upon and needed elsewhere.” Mulling over her words carefully Ovelia inhaled sharply. “Perhaps it’s not sustainable but I often wonder what more I would want if I were to sprout wings and soar away. My wish is no more than that, a wish unfulfilled and I have come- rather I need to come to terms with accepting that is what it will be. I can fill my head with childish desires and feed into my want of something more, yet who would it benefit but myself? For one living here, the desire alone is selfish enough, our teachings ask of us to be selfless and provide to those more in need. If this is where I am told that my people need me, if this where I can help Ivalice, then here I shall stay.”

It made her sound nobler than she really felt. So selfless and giving to others, that her desires was just a blip on her path. A mistake to even mention them. To tell someone her desires that she had never expressed them before made them real. With each careful word she spoke Ovelia spoke her wish into existence, could she quench the fire of her desires if she continued to feed them? Ovelia looked to him and found herself wondering what his something more would be. What was it that fueled him everyday to push him to strive for more? For him freedom was an option, but perhaps not the same freedom Ovelia longed for. Each word was given a meaning by definition, but each person it was given a purpose.

Shaking her head brushing off the worries she expressed to him a smile gracing her soft features. “It matters not, tell me though, you yourself spoke of wanting something more fulfilling. What could that something more be?”

When laughter, more audible and clear than anything she’d said so far, came out of her, Delita stood bewildered but happily surprised for it. He meant to ask what she found comical, but was swept up in conversation again before he could inquire. Even though she was technically answering his questions, each response only created more unknowns. Delita wondered if she truly felt so little agency in her own existence, or if she took her duties so seriously as to neglect her own needs. It may have seemed like a selfless thing to do, but he could easily see how it might backfire on her -- anyone, for that matter. 

“Who told you that you’re needed here?” he questioned, looking between her and the church. “God? Your family? Who are you staying here to appease? I hope my questions aren’t prying; I’m only trying to see your perspective. It’s one I very rarely hear.”

The idea of selfishness being the result of wishing for a different life, and the sacrifice of that, made Delita think of something he’d heard a couple years back.

“I met a cleric a while ago, when my sister fell ill and I had no idea how to help her. This cleric was so level-headed, so efficient, and I found myself indebted to her when she came to the root of Teta’s illness. I thought to myself, if she does this every day, how did she find it in herself to cope? What sustained her? So I asked,” he went on, looking away from her, over to a flowerbed instead.

“She said that she could only be of aid to others when she let her comrades fuel her as well. She was of no use curing and mending others if she herself was falling apart. Helping others is reciprocal; if you have no one and nothing filling your proverbial pot, then you have nothing to pour from. It’s not selfish to ensure that your own needs are met. It’s the only way we can fully show up for one another.”

He wasn’t sure if she would find the anecdote helpful or applicable to her life, but Delita often thought back on it when considering how he and his sister took care of one another. It wasn’t enough that he simply look after her, or her him. They each needed their own individual meaning, and to support one another with it. 

“Anyway,” he digressed, shrugging his shoulders, “I wandered off a bit from our point, I apologize.”

When she returned the conversation to him, Delita let out a soft, slow breath.

“It’s funny -- I’ve never given an alternative considerable thought. Not until recently,” he admitted, beginning to walk again, still keeping close to the perimeter of the church.

“Is it foolish to wish you could be a hero?” Delita asked her, his eyes only meeting hers for a moment before returning to their surroundings. “Not necessarily the kinds of heroes you learn about from children’s tales. Or ones like Goltana and Larg, both of whom I--” Delita began, then cutting himself off.

He had to be careful what he said, and to whom. Restraint was something he lacked and Teta feared that one day, it would be his undoing.

“Regardless of how I feel about them, I mean to say that if I was a hero, I would want to be different than them. I would want to create real change.”

Suddenly Delita was feeling a little bashful about his admission, but he couldn’t redact it now. Instead, he chuckled at himself and shook his head, kicking a stray pebble out of his path.

It was a silly question, not many people dreamed of doing hard labor their whole lives. More often than not she heard from the older men who’ve resided her complain about aches and blisters due to hard and diligent work. “I prefer honesty, not often I hear the blunt truth that isn’t the form of complaints from those that are… of seniority. I am used to only hearing of what happens outside the walls through rumors. When I delve further into finding the truth I’m met often with honeyed lies.” 

Again, all she knew was whispers. Letters from the palace was rare, this used to sadden her when she first arrived now it was something she’d grown accustomed to. To find out real from fake she often spoke to those who stayed under their roof. Yet most people preferred to water down their opinions whenever she inquired more, seeing as who she was. “I know of some things, but not as much as I desired. I would be ignorant in saying I did not see a change coming with how bustling the church has become.”

Dwelling on his question, her work was fulfilling that much was true. Ovelia knew it was a small comfort for the people, the help that was provided here. Still she longed for more, how much more help to her people could she really be if she was out there? Or even in the palace? She knew things were in less desirable shape than often and she found herself to be smart. What would it be like if she was with her father? Could she offer answers unseen to those around him?

“The people do look to us, providing for them here is all I’ve ever known. I’ve lived here since I was young.” Continuing to stand at the entrance of the garden a forlorn sigh left her lips. “I often wish of doing more. There is so much of Ivalice to see, so much to help. To be confined here makes often wonder if we truly make much of a difference. If I were able to spread hope farther, then I would.” 

Making small steps closer her eyes travel to the clouds, where birds soared above. If she could travel just a mere fraction that they could maybe she could help calm the fears of the people of Ivalice. Her duty to the royal blood could be honored that much at least. Fixing a crumbling economy was a no small feat, something Ovelia wasn’t sure she could do, but providing hope and reassurance was that something that she did.

“I suppose we both have similar wishes then, to bring to fruition something more.”

Her point of view took Delita by surprise. He had anticipated a positive spin on his words, something to make the honest truth look a little less bleak. He understood the impulse to paint Ivalice in a more hopeful color, but at present, it simply didn’t look feasible. As a commoner, Delita felt utterly powerless more often than not. He could see that it wore some people down, crushing their spirit and subduing them into silent obedience.

At times, it nearly did that to him. But when his sense returned to him, Delita knew that anger would be the only thing to get him through this. Where Teta met life with a grace and calm that fortified her, Delita let his ire towards injustice strengthen him. It was the one thing that no noble could take away from him. 

Delita found it interesting that she’d been residing at the convent for essentially her whole life. He’d always envisioned people choosing to go there (or perhaps being sent there regardless) at an older age. His first instinct was to believe that it would make her experience and perspective so different from his, but so far she hadn’t admonished him for leaving service, or for criticizing the ruling class. He was still expecting her to find a sentiment that didn’t sit right, to turn on her heel and leave him alone in the garden. 

“Are you truly confined here?” he questioned, looking around and then to her. “Are the stakes too high to ever leave? I’m being sincere in asking. You have more worth than what you can offer to others, you know,” he said, leveling her with a genuine expression.

“Being of service to others is noble and charitable. But that isn’t enough to sustain a person. That alone isn’t enough. You wouldn’t be selfish to want more.”

Skip the service? Why, the thought of it alone was blasphemy for someone serving the convent, let alone the royal family. Yet the thought of it alone filled her whole body with exhilaration. If she were caught, the punishment- well, she didn’t even know what that would be! All she ever did was what was expected of her but to sneak out of the service and with a stranger no less? She allowed herself an internal argument for just a brief moment. Being part of the royal family meant you were to make decisions and to be firm, did it not? No one respected a weak-kneed ruler. Rather, that was what she was telling herself in attempts to convince her anxieties that this was okay. 

A swift glance as he walked out, his voice replaying in her mind. He didn’t seem too bothered by her awkward conversation either, while she stumbled with words he replied with ease. It comforted her. Excited her. An adventure, albeit a very small one, in her favorite spot in all of the convent. To her this was similar to crossing mountains and seas. Ovelia picked herself up quietly, following him like a mouse scurrying off with small crumbs. 

If she was good like the other sisters, she would have half the mind to lecture him. Lecture herself. Yet Ovelia chose to see this as an opportunity, they say God lets everything happen for a reason, all a part of his plan… That, and he was forgiving. The breeze between the arches hit her face when she made it out of the church, gentle and reassuring. Reminding her that this very moment was real, that it was no dream. 

Clasping her hands infront of her she continued to study him, trailing behind with her gaze never breaking. This very moment, she didn’t want to forget, it would replay in her mind before she slept. The way the spring sun would hit his back when it peaked between the arches. The color of his hair and how it moved with the gentle wind. The sound of their steps as the walked to the garden. 

“Do you enjoy them?” Ovelia’s voice felt so loud, though she spoke delicately as she ever did. Was that common with sneaking around? She caught herself thinking. “Your small jobs, I mean. I know only of the work within these walls, small tasks and such. Nothing quite as tasking as your jobs, I’m sure.” 

Wishful thinking aside, Delita hadn’t truly expected her to join him in the garden. It was probably--almost definitely--too much to ask of someone like her. But the worst that could happen was nothing at all, making it a low-risk offer to extend.

Once he was outside, he sucked in a hearty breath, at least glad to be out in the open. The sound of a voice, her voice, addressing him made Delita turn around once again. At first, his brows furrowed, not understanding her question. But then they relaxed once more as she clarified. He laughed lightly, giving a good-natured shrug in reply. 

“I’m sure what I’m about to say will sound ungrateful, though that’s not my intent, but the compensation for my labor isn’t ideal.”

Delita knew that this probably wasn’t the response she expected. Though when he pondered it further, she herself had a thankless position in society. Those in the upperclass expected people like him to feel thankful for even the most demeaning of positions. Keeping a stiff upper lip and gritting one’s teeth any time someone punched down was expected. The wages that were given were but a crumb, and citizens like him were expected to stretch it out for a comically long time.

It wasn’t a pretty truth. It wasn’t a pleasant topic. But Delita rarely minced words, and he felt too tired to even try right now.

“Hours spent in fields and large estates tending the property, or running errands for people privileged enough not to have to do it for themselves -- they never add up. But there’s little else to take in terms of work right now. I’m sure you’ve heard, even from here,” he continued, gesturing to the church and convent as a whole. “I’m certainly not the only one in Ivalice feeling the pressure of a crumbling economy.”

He sighed, then gave a genuine smile. “Perhaps I should have given a more succinct answer. If I had, it would have been: no, I don’t enjoy them. But one day, I hope to. One day I aspire to be doing something more fulfilling.”

Placing his hands in his pockets, Delita began strolling the garden at a slow pace, inwardly noting the clusters of flowers and greenery. He made sure to keep a respectful distance from the girl, letting her know that his intentions were simply to walk and converse with someone. 

“And yourself? Your work here, do you find it fulfilling? How long have you resided here?” he asked, still maintaining a leisurely pace.

Perhaps sitting in the back was a bad idea after all, quelling her inner thoughts became harder in the silence. Sitting closer to the front would have pulled her attention. The church as quiet as it could be with murmurs of prayer being offered up to God only mad her more lost in thought. In a daze she hadn’t noticed the young man take a seat in the same pew until she heard soft laughter come from him. It pulled her from her anxious trance and she offered a smile in return of his laughter- too shy to ask him to repeat fully what he said. She picked up some remnants from what he spoke.

Ovelia’s rolled the hem of her sleeve between her thumb and index finger. When he spoke to her, it was rather informal which took her by pleasant surprise. Brown eyes blinked in wonder as he spoke. Did he not know who she was? Was not so uncommon, the convent was rather far from the royal palace and the occasional person who knew nothing of her would casually speak to her. Heart pattering and climbing it’s way to her throat, these conversations made her heart swell with joy. For just a moment should could play pretend like a child would. Such a thought could make her laugh most little girls pretended to be a princess and she would pretend she was not one. Right now she was not Princess Ovelia, though it wasn’t as if she weren’t proud of that identity, she could be her. So often she was a Princess she often wondered who really was Ovelia.

 “It has become quite energetic here.” Ovelia agreed in a whisper so soft as to not bring attention to this rare moment. Her eyes glanced over and examined the young man next to her. “It’s no bother to me. I think it would not surprise you that I spend most my day offering prayer so- no, I do not mind.”

Silence fell between the two, the awkward kind one could cut with a blade. The blonde, rarely often engaging in casual conversation, never knew what it was people talked about in their daily lives. In her mind she jostled around different topics the sisters would speak about. Mostly religion, how those who would stay here should turn to God. While she was thoroughly devoted to God, she knew He was not always the most thrilling conversation for all. 

“Ah… The season has been kind to us has it not? The weather has been so gentle and perfect for nature to grow.” She could feel her cheeks burning. Oh God, did she just give the awkward equivalent to ‘How’s the weather out there?’ She felt as if she could die and God could take her up right now. They could even have someone give a eulogy.

‘What a horrible conversation starter, Ovelia. You were put through so many teachings for etiquette, for conversation.’ Scolding herself mentally blonde felt herself shrinking in her seat.

“Well, I mean, that is to say… the flowers in the garden here are in wonderful bloom…” Soft voice still whispering and trailing off trying to save her conversation. 

While he didn’t want to stare, it took Delita a slightly longer glance to realize that he must have been talking to one of the actual residents of the convent; this wasn’t merely a passerby like him or Teta. He could only assume that meant that the young woman was wholly devout, making him conscious of having lodged his foot in his mouth moments before. But she didn’t seem to mind, much to his relief. 

When she spoke of spending much of her time in prayer, Delita nodded, his delayed realization confirmed. He was glad for the fact that Teta hadn’t heard him speak so informally about religion in front of this girl. She would have quietly chided him for it, or worse, simply given him a disappointed look. Teta took these matters more seriously and oftentimes cared for the opinions of others more than Delita did. It wasn’t that he meant to offend, but he didn’t approach conversation with the same interpersonal awareness that she did.

There was a moment of silence, one which Delita wasn’t sure what to do with. He still felt uneasy, desperate to distract himself from his current surroundings. Before he could muster up something to say, the girl had beaten him to it -- though it wasn’t necessarily what he anticipated. It was a genuine attempt, though, and he appreciated that. This was something he could work with.

“The season is a generous one for odd jobs, as well. I’ve been taking up positions as farmhands, harvesters, errand-runners -- you name it, I’ve done it. Luckily I’ve had enough opportunities to keep me afloat. That certainly wouldn’t be the case in the colder months,” he said, nodding to her. He didn’t normally divulge very much about himself to others, preferring to keep it to small niceties and then move on before the conversation could get any more involved. But for once since arriving there, it felt good to share a tidbit of his life with someone other than Tietra. 

The service itself began, and Delita steeled himself for the words of religious wisdom, the preaching, all the things he avoided. He fidgeted in his seat before looking over at the girl beside him. He knew that this wasn’t just a service for her; this was her job, but he still felt the urge to invite her out to get some air. If he were to only stick around the church and return before the service ended, then Teta would be none the wiser and he could return with her to the convent. 

As quietly as possible, Delita leaned slightly down and whispered, “To be completely honest, I feel stifled in here. I’m going to breathe in some fresh air and stroll the garden just outside. Should you feel inclined to join me, I wouldn’t be upset about it.”

i worry the ff roleplay fandom is kind of at a standstill (with the exception of the VII remake, which definitely seems to have given it a boost!) and that no one really writes tactics characters anymore or would write with tactics characters. i do hope i’m wrong so i’m just going to throw this post out there!