Jump to content

Clover's memories


Recommended Posts

Once upon a time, there was a girl who lived in a world of tales.


Tale after tale, she lived to learn, and through them, she learned to live. She recognized the blue colour of the sky so long as it would last; green grass, red fruits, yellow chocobos. What was seen, what was hidden, what was said, what remained silent. She heard the laughter and saw the tears, and became fascinated by a world full of memories. Even by those which didn’t belong to her.


Somewhere along the way, her own tale started.

Link to comment

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?”


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.

Link to comment

“I might not see them again, will I?”


Clover was sitting on one of the chairs inside her grandfather’s shop, knees up to her face and gaze down to the floor, together with her mood. Such was reflected on her calm voice.


The magic shop was almost as she remembered it, a magical place where she’d always felt safe, but it was also different that night. Different, like everything else.


“That hasn’t been decided yet, Clover. There is no such thing as fate,” her grandpa replied, walking towards her with some tea he’d just prepared. She only raised her head to take the cup with both hands and a barely audible “thank you”. The man smiled, as he always did. Even if the shadow of war had also been reflected over his features, he was still something familiar, the only thing that didn’t feel completely strange that night. Especially when he spoke.


“You might see them again, you might not, but none of them will disappear in either case.” He pointed at his own head with his free hand. “We have our memories, a lot of stories we can revive anytime. They might be the only thing that will always come with us wherever we go, Clover.”


He walked to the table, where he placed his own cup of tea. “Speaking of stories…” the man continued as he sat down and made himself comfortable. Clover’s gaze turned to him. “Let’s be elsewhere tonight, shall we? Would you like to hear one?”


The girl nodded, unblinking eyes glued to her beloved grandpa and tea forgotten between her hands. Her mind was already drifting away when the old man’s voice lighted up the room once more, like many other times.


“A long, long time ago…”

Link to comment
  • 2 months later...

One peaceful sun, Clover’s grandpa noticed that his granddaughter was writing something on a piece of paper, using the chance that there were no customers in the magic shop at that right moment.


“What are you writing, Clover?”


“A story. It’s called ‘The Warrior Princess and the Chocobo’.”


“Oh.” The old man looked amused. After making himself comfortable on a chair, he asked what it was about. Clover didn’t smile due to her concentration, but it was obvious to him that she was excited to share her stories with her grandpa.


“A long time ago, there was a hyur Princess called Alana. One day, she would save a chocobo’s life, and in return this one offered to grant her a wish.”


“Alana, hm? Wasn’t that one of your friends from Gridania?”


The girl nodded, albeit she didn’t know if the other hyur would consider her a friend. At the very least, Alana was a nice acquaintance that had left a good impression in Clover.


“Well, tell me about her.”


“Umm…” Clover brought the quill to her lips for a moment, eyes down on the paper. “She came to our shop with her father one day. They were from—“


“Oh, no no,” her grandpa interrupted her with his permanent warm and amused smile.”I want to know about the girl you saw in her; the one from your story.”


Clover looked at him then, silent for a few seconds, before a small, slight smile was finally drawn in her lips. She turned her gaze back to her writing.


“Alana is a strong and kind princess from a far away Kingdom. Her father tells her not to wander too far away from the castle, but she always ventures out. It’s not because she’s reckless or disobedient; rather, her soul has always been free.”


As reality and fantasy blended together, Clover felt that this was definitely how she would always want to picture her old friend, the girl who loved chocobos and was unafraid of anything.



((OOC: As a memory of Alana.))

Link to comment

It was raining that sun, so the magic shop remained closed for the time being. Clover and her grandpa were enjoying the sound of the rain from inside, having some of the special tea that she liked so much.


“Tell me, Clover,” he asked, smiling as always. “You’re always imagining tales about different people, yet you haven’t written any about yourself. If you were a character from your stories, who would you be?”


The girl seemed to take a few seconds to consider this. Her reply, however, was firm, with no doubts slipping through her tone.


“I’d be the ghost of a bard.”


“A ghost?”


She nodded. “That way, I could observe everything without being seen, and then I could write songs about all the things I witnessed.”


“Ho ho ho, not bad. So, who would I be?”


“You’d be a savior!” This new reply didn’t take a single second to leave her lips, as if she’d known the answer all along.


“A savior, uh?” He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Don’t you find it magical enough if I’m still a crazy inventor who owns a shop of wonders?”


Clover was left in thought for another small moment, before she nodded to his words. "You're right…” she admitted, and turned her head to her tea.


The next bit was said with a small voice and a slight smile.


“But you’d still save me.”

Link to comment

Please sign in to comment

You will be able to leave a comment after signing in

Sign In Now
  • Create New...