It has been some time since she dreamt last. She has been so wearied lately, so weighed down- by what? she wonders, and instantly assigns blame to the long days of travel and work. Flights betwixt worlds and over continents took time and tolled heavily on those moving about. Even as one who had trained mercilessly and beat her body into the best shape it could be, Drace was exhausted. She had flown from Spira to Ivalice without rest, and she doubted that she would have been capable of this feat even at the peak of her fitness some years back. The sandstorm in Dalmasca had allowed her brief respite, and then she had flown onwards to Archades, where--
A sigh, as she removes the last of her outerwear and slides beneath the sheets of her bed. Drace had been exhausted- moreso than usual- since arriving, and her homeland offered no rest, no way of explanation. It wasn't normal, but she was no stranger to weariness of the body and soul. Wasn't it she, fearsome Judge Magister that she was- had been- whom had fought on countless battlegrounds and slain many men? Such efforts wore down on even those strong of mind. She had learned to stop thinking of the deaths by her hand years back, but that was not to say they were any less significant. Some nights the toll was high enough to keep her from sleep entirely, and she had entered the Judge's quarters the next day, her face drawn and pale.
No, this exhaustion was not one born of extended flights, and she found herself thinking back to a conversation as her eyes shut.
"The auracite bears a demon, lady Drace-"
She had been carrying the stone with her, true, but only to keep it safe. If it was as bad as the knight Agrias had warned, then better for it to stay away from prying hands and innocents, and it was no burden to hold. It wasn't heavy, and it stayed hidden in her satchel. Only once had she caught herself absently staring at it as the sunlight filtered through her windows and shone into the blue depths, making it twinkle so invitingly. Her eyes couldn't help but be drawn.
She was under no illusion that it might hold some power, as stones in Ivalice were wont to do. Great crystals of healing powers littered the world, and entire dynasties were brought up on such trinkets- histories revolved around them, and civilizations built to accommodate such powers. Nor was she naive to the idea of a demon being housed inside the stone. Such things were not exactly common, but not a rarity either-- her mind raced to her former comrade.
"Judge Magister Ghis was consumed by the explosion, as was the Leviathan. We suspect the Dawn Shard for the..."
Her mouth thinned into a grimace, even whilst being beckoned into sleep's comforting embrace. No, such stones were not unheard of, but surely it was not the sole cause of her tiredness. She was strong in both mind and body- perhaps it was a variety of reasons. Too much travelling, and throwing herself back into work while she had the chance, and the handling of this stone, and the knowledge that once she left it was unlikely she would return to Ivalice ever again. Those were much more likely reasons, she decided unconsciously.
The auracite glittered.
A day made much better by that voice, no matter the weather. It was sunny. Maybe it was raining. She wasn't sure, but the sky was bright, and she sat outside at a table with a flower in her hair and smiled up at the speaker.
She doesn't remember his face, or what he wore, or how he stood, but she continues to watch him and feels something flutter in her stomach. He is speaking again.
She nods a response and looks down. There is pressure on her stomach, and she realises she has placed her hand there. The fluttering does not ease up, and she looks back to him a little guiltily, a little proud.
Stop talking, she says, or perhaps she thinks it, but then they are making love and it does not matter so much. Is it the first time? Last time? Another time? It does not matter, she realises as they writhe together, slow and careful, because she knows what comes next. She has never been older than a girl of ten and nine years, but she looks upon the past- her future- and sees him leave, reads the letter, hears the words from women in the street. She is on top of him, she is walking down the street, she is lying in bed dreaming heavily, and her hand clutches her belly once more.
Then she wakes, and knows her father is dead also, and stumbles from bed hating Rozarria, and she is alone. Her sister is no longer here- run away with gold and jewels with a boy to be discarded on the streets with nothing but a hungry babe wailing and suckling when it might, she is sure, and she is sick to her stomach as she realises she is almost the same. She would have run were she younger, surely, but she is the only one left that she knows now- she feels sick, she is sick, something is wrong- something is horribly wrong. There is blood and it is warm and it is hers and not hers at the same time and she is in pain and she knows she will be lucky to survive with nobody to help her, and though she is only ten and nine years she sees the future once more, sees herself lying in bed until someone discovers her and heals her and waits until she is well again before leaving to pick up a blade, a bow, a mace-
Drace is awake before her eyes open, and leans over the side of the bed, stomach tight and throat working furiously. Her room is dark, except for the blue of the stone, but for the moment she does not see it. Once she is certain she will not vomit, she pushes herself to sit, feet resting on the floor and head buried in her hands, taking deep, ragged breaths.
Sometimes she dreams, and it is never a pleasant experience. The stench of blood is too thick whenever she does, and she wakes with ghosts haunting her every move, feeling more drained than before she had lain her head down. She is not sure what time it is, and thinks to move to check. She thinks better of it, and remains seated, grasping at her hair tightly.
Quietly, she sobs.
