A few months later...
The early evening breeze glided over the coast sending the black willows into a rustle that almost rivaled the sound of the ocean. It was just another autumn evening along the beach. Dalamund hung low in the horizon now and the days had been forever overcast lately. The clouds appeared to swirl around the hound as it hovered menacingly in the distance.
John Long-grain stood leaning against the split-rail fence that ran along the top of the dunes. He just stared at the distant sky. It's what most people had taken to doing these days. Of course rumors were flying around in packs thicker than gulls now. No doubt something big was about to happen, but that sort of business had no bearing in these parts. Lost in his own thoughts now, he barely noticed the girl prancing up to him along the fence.
She quickly wrapped her arms around him and slid herself under his own arm. He looked down at her with a smile.
"'ello future missus Long-grain. Shirk'n chores again, Flo?"
"Pa 'kin clean his own catch now. 'Sides, I won't be his much longer!"
"'N thank the Twelve fer that! You better not give me as much grief as 'im though.", he quipped playfully.
"*tsk* John!" she chided with the same tome as she pressed herself against him.
They stood there for a few more minutes in silence till she spoke up once more.
"What'l you think will happen?"
He inhaled slowly but did not sigh.
"I don't rightly know. But whatever it is, we'll come out together."
She squeezed him at this response. Her dreams had been troubled as of late, though she would not admit it. She wanted to believe him. He seemed to believe his own words though, and perhaps that would be enough.
------
The next hour was spent with their backs against the sand, laying there dreaming of their coming future together. They watched as the clouds continued to grow thicker. "S'pose we should turn in b'fore it rains." Flo said. John sat up with a grunt and a sigh. "Reckon it's the right thing to do." he replied. Standing, he reached down letting her take his hand and easily hoisted her to her feet as well. It was while they walked back to the village along the fence that the thunder began.
Not a normal thunder you would expect from a storm. This was a continuous rumbling that ebbed and flowed from the distance. It took people far to long to stop and consider the source. But the sound of something rocketing overhead finally drew their attention to the horizon. Dalamund was coming apart!
It would be hard for anyone to recall the chaos that ensued, but the next ten minutes felt like ten years. As the moon exploded a firestorm covered the skies, hurling brimstone and death across the landscape. Florence found herself cowering in the street as the village burned around her. It was then she heard his voice again.
"Flo, we have to go, now!"
"I c-can't, John!"
"You can!", he hollered back to her. Bending down he lifted her to her feet while pointing up the street.
"Go, that way. Just run. We have to get to the cave at the top of the ridge!"
Once again everything happened too fast to recount. They ran. Even as flames poured around them, they ran. John cried out to anyone still in the area. "To the ridge! Get out of the wharf!". And run they did, even as the tide began to swell from the impending wave. It was only by some miracle or intervention by the Twelve that they managed to reach high enough ground. At the top of the ridge was an abandoned garrison. A low stone wall touched the road from the left and lead to the cliff-side where a cave had served as lodging for no more than five soldiers at one point. Long since abandoned, it was the sturdiest shelter in the area.
As they reached the wall she turned just in time to see the wave now slowly receding. A few stragglers were still making their way up the road as John pulled her into the alcove. The roar of multiple fires along the ridge could still be heard as well as the muffled pops of explosions through the solid rock around them. An old lantern was found among the discarded supplies and lit for what little light they cared for. The few who remained eventually found their way, now no more than thirty. Her family was not among them.
The remainder of the night saw itself spent with the collective wailing and tears of all Eorzea in mourning for what was now lost.
The early evening breeze glided over the coast sending the black willows into a rustle that almost rivaled the sound of the ocean. It was just another autumn evening along the beach. Dalamund hung low in the horizon now and the days had been forever overcast lately. The clouds appeared to swirl around the hound as it hovered menacingly in the distance.
John Long-grain stood leaning against the split-rail fence that ran along the top of the dunes. He just stared at the distant sky. It's what most people had taken to doing these days. Of course rumors were flying around in packs thicker than gulls now. No doubt something big was about to happen, but that sort of business had no bearing in these parts. Lost in his own thoughts now, he barely noticed the girl prancing up to him along the fence.
She quickly wrapped her arms around him and slid herself under his own arm. He looked down at her with a smile.
"'ello future missus Long-grain. Shirk'n chores again, Flo?"
"Pa 'kin clean his own catch now. 'Sides, I won't be his much longer!"
"'N thank the Twelve fer that! You better not give me as much grief as 'im though.", he quipped playfully.
"*tsk* John!" she chided with the same tome as she pressed herself against him.
They stood there for a few more minutes in silence till she spoke up once more.
"What'l you think will happen?"
He inhaled slowly but did not sigh.
"I don't rightly know. But whatever it is, we'll come out together."
She squeezed him at this response. Her dreams had been troubled as of late, though she would not admit it. She wanted to believe him. He seemed to believe his own words though, and perhaps that would be enough.
------
The next hour was spent with their backs against the sand, laying there dreaming of their coming future together. They watched as the clouds continued to grow thicker. "S'pose we should turn in b'fore it rains." Flo said. John sat up with a grunt and a sigh. "Reckon it's the right thing to do." he replied. Standing, he reached down letting her take his hand and easily hoisted her to her feet as well. It was while they walked back to the village along the fence that the thunder began.
Not a normal thunder you would expect from a storm. This was a continuous rumbling that ebbed and flowed from the distance. It took people far to long to stop and consider the source. But the sound of something rocketing overhead finally drew their attention to the horizon. Dalamund was coming apart!
It would be hard for anyone to recall the chaos that ensued, but the next ten minutes felt like ten years. As the moon exploded a firestorm covered the skies, hurling brimstone and death across the landscape. Florence found herself cowering in the street as the village burned around her. It was then she heard his voice again.
"Flo, we have to go, now!"
"I c-can't, John!"
"You can!", he hollered back to her. Bending down he lifted her to her feet while pointing up the street.
"Go, that way. Just run. We have to get to the cave at the top of the ridge!"
Once again everything happened too fast to recount. They ran. Even as flames poured around them, they ran. John cried out to anyone still in the area. "To the ridge! Get out of the wharf!". And run they did, even as the tide began to swell from the impending wave. It was only by some miracle or intervention by the Twelve that they managed to reach high enough ground. At the top of the ridge was an abandoned garrison. A low stone wall touched the road from the left and lead to the cliff-side where a cave had served as lodging for no more than five soldiers at one point. Long since abandoned, it was the sturdiest shelter in the area.
As they reached the wall she turned just in time to see the wave now slowly receding. A few stragglers were still making their way up the road as John pulled her into the alcove. The roar of multiple fires along the ridge could still be heard as well as the muffled pops of explosions through the solid rock around them. An old lantern was found among the discarded supplies and lit for what little light they cared for. The few who remained eventually found their way, now no more than thirty. Her family was not among them.
The remainder of the night saw itself spent with the collective wailing and tears of all Eorzea in mourning for what was now lost.
