There was a strange scent in the air that afternoon. Sometimes suffocating, sometimes chilling. Not the air Clover used to breathe, and not the town she used to live in. Her parents were also strange, different. It was like a tale gone wrong, a story she was merely listening to. Not her own story.
There she was, at the entrance of a town that, oddly, didn’t feel like home that day. Her parents stood in front of her, looking at her with sorrowful eyes. That afternoon, Clover would have to leave Gridania in a caravan who headed to Limsa Lominsa, where her grandfather lived. She’d stay with him until the war was over. Or until Eorzea fell.
“You understand, don’t you, Clover?†A teary woman kneeled down before her 13 years old daughter, looking straight into her green orbs. Her voice was pained-- this was a goodbye, and even if hope should always remain, fear would as well. “Eorzea depends on everyone now, on us. Your father and I must fight for your and everyone’s future. If we don’t, there’ll be none... You understand, don’t you?â€
It wasn’t just the anguish of not seeing her daughter ever again, or the distress of making her travel to Limsa Lominsa without the presence of her parents. There was also the fear of how Clover would feel, for this was the very first time they’d be separated. Above everything, her mother wanted her to be alright.
However, as she kept talking and staring into her daughter’s eyes, her own expression froze when she realized that tears wouldn't fall down the girl's cheeks. Clover’s gaze didn’t mirror her own, nor her father’s. There was collected resignation, perhaps even a tint of melancholy swimming in a pool of emptiness, but he wasn’t crying.
“I understand, mother,†was the girl’s soft reply. Her mother stared at her for long seconds, expression unreadable, before she stood up to give her daughter a last hug.
There was a strange scent in the air that night, one Clover hadn’t known before. One that, for good or for bad, might eventually become familiar.
There she was, at the entrance of a town that, oddly, didn’t feel like home that day. Her parents stood in front of her, looking at her with sorrowful eyes. That afternoon, Clover would have to leave Gridania in a caravan who headed to Limsa Lominsa, where her grandfather lived. She’d stay with him until the war was over. Or until Eorzea fell.
“You understand, don’t you, Clover?†A teary woman kneeled down before her 13 years old daughter, looking straight into her green orbs. Her voice was pained-- this was a goodbye, and even if hope should always remain, fear would as well. “Eorzea depends on everyone now, on us. Your father and I must fight for your and everyone’s future. If we don’t, there’ll be none... You understand, don’t you?â€
It wasn’t just the anguish of not seeing her daughter ever again, or the distress of making her travel to Limsa Lominsa without the presence of her parents. There was also the fear of how Clover would feel, for this was the very first time they’d be separated. Above everything, her mother wanted her to be alright.
However, as she kept talking and staring into her daughter’s eyes, her own expression froze when she realized that tears wouldn't fall down the girl's cheeks. Clover’s gaze didn’t mirror her own, nor her father’s. There was collected resignation, perhaps even a tint of melancholy swimming in a pool of emptiness, but he wasn’t crying.
“I understand, mother,†was the girl’s soft reply. Her mother stared at her for long seconds, expression unreadable, before she stood up to give her daughter a last hug.
There was a strange scent in the air that night, one Clover hadn’t known before. One that, for good or for bad, might eventually become familiar.
![[Image: banner2_zpsba85b875.jpg]](http://i251.photobucket.com/albums/gg292/kurosaki_akane/banner2_zpsba85b875.jpg)
Clover Blake (Hyur) /Â K'mih Yohko (Miqo'te)
