#fandom problem 6325

[damnfandomproblems]

Fandom Problem #6325:

Honestly, as a queer person I am starting to hate this trend of where any character that is slightly, just barely, not playing into hetero stereotypes and gender roles they MUST be queer even if no sexuality or gender identity is made canon, or even if they are confirmed cishet. I use to love it, seeing all these queer fanworks, but it just feels so heteronormative now? And not only that, it feels like it just feeds into gay stereotypes too.

Like, oh this man wears a pink shirt and hugs his friends, he must be gay!! Or this tomboy likes to get her hands dirty and doesn't wear skirts or dresses, she must actually be a trans man or a lesbian!!! Like, no...? Sure, many queer men like pink and are affectionate, and many tomboys are lesbians, but many also aren't?

Like, affection gay men aren't gay because they're affectionate, or affection because they're gay, they're just gay because their gay and affection because they're affectionate. Tomboy lesbians aren't tomboys because they're lesbians, or lesbians because they're tomboys, they're lesbians because they're lesbians and tomboys because they're tomboys.

Headcanons are fine, but using stereotypes to base them on just feels so insulting. And don't get me wrong all you "you pissed on the poor!?" people of this site, this isn't me saying people can't headcanon affection men or tomboys as queers, I just want people to stop headcanoning them as queer because they're not performing classic gender roles and just head them as queer for the sake of being queer. Just headcanon a tomboy as a lesbian because they want her to be a lesbian, not because she dares to not act like what they think a cishet must act like.

Like, so many people preach about breaking gender roles and letting people be who they are until it's cishet characters and/or people breaking gender roles and being who they are. So many of my fellow queers act like straight people are this hivemind of bugs that are happy to be forced to act, express, and live under strict gender roles.

Like, let them break free, let them be happy, let women be tomboys and men be affectionate without whispering how they must be queer like us and how's it queerphobic for a creator if they, or they have, confirmed their gender role breaking characters to be cishet, or how it's queerbaiting for a cishet person to break their gender roles and stereotypes.

It's toxic, it's gross, it's feeding into the queerphobic belief that only queer people break their gender roles, and frankly, boring. It's okay to headcanon any character as queer, but it's also okay to just let them be cishet too.

[umbry-fic]

To you, with love (2)

Summary: Mother's Day is a difficult day for all of them, and one that they each choose to spend differently.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel Relationships: Colette Brunel/Lloyd Irving, Lloyd Irving & Anna Irving Rating: G Chapter: 2 of 3 Word Count: 6325 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 09/05/2021

Notes: This chapter covers Lloyd and Colette. I haven't written the third one yet. Hopefully someday!

Previous chapter

~~~

Blue. Blue was the only colour in his vision. Everything was blue. The paper, the desk, his hands -

Alright, it was official. He’d been staring at the blue paper sitting on his table for too long. Lloyd groaned, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow and nearly knocking his pencil off the table. He needed to look away and do something else before he drove himself completely insane.

The only upside was that the shade of blue was close to the colour of Colette's eyes. He could almost imagine he was staring into her eyes...

The piece of blue paper was just as mockingly empty as it had been when Genis had handed it over. Lloyd could almost see the imaginary words meant to fill it up but which could not be found, forming utter gibberish in his head. He had half a mind to just start stabbing holes in the paper with his pencil with all the pent-up energy in his hands, but that felt like a waste of perfectly good paper. Perhaps a paper aeroplane would work? Those were fun to watch fly through the air, though his aim was abysmal. The last time he’d thrown one, it had flown straight into Professor Raine’s face and landed him in detention. Maybe he could ask Colette to throw it out of the window of his house the next time she came over…?

“What do you think we should do with these?” Colette asked, tapping him on the shoulder with her pencil. Her head had been turning between her assignment and the other sheet of blue paper on her desk, deliberating what to attend to.

Lloyd sighed, rolling his pencil from side to side with a finger. “I don’t know. Genis just gave the extra paper to us without any further explanation.” Sneaking a peek at Genis showed that he was engrossed in writing his note, occasionally erasing full sentences with hard rubs of his eraser before slashing more words across the paper. Genis was doing something important and was not to be disrupted. As for the two of them... That was a completely different story.

“It’s not like we have anything to write…” Colette muttered, resting her chin on her palm and staring off into the distance.

Lloyd was still a little worried over what Colette had said minutes before. The same smile as always was on her face, but it was missing… something. He couldn’t put his finger on what exactly was different, only that it was missing the essence that brightened her surroundings and could warm his heart without fail.

Mother’s Day was a sore spot for both of them, but more so for her. Every year, she would spend the day with him by his mother’s grave, silently watching him tell his mother… whatever he felt like saying. It wasn’t exactly a special occasion for him, just a day like any other where he might choose to visit his mother’s grave and tell her about his day. He'd wish her a happy Mother's Day, maybe plant a few more flowers, but nothing more than that. What point was there to writing a card or getting a gift when he could only place it by his mother's grave and watch the weather wear away at it until nothing was left?

Colette couldn’t even do something as simple as visit her mother, let alone send her a message… He wanted to help her, somehow, but what could he do? He didn’t control the Church’s customs. He certainly couldn’t bend them. If Colette as the Chosen was helpless, what power did he hold, as someone who wasn’t even raised under the Church of Martel?

He hated it, being powerless to do anything for Colette. She never spoke about how she felt, either, refusing to spoil the day for him, instead locking it all away. He wanted to return that cheer to her, wanted to banish her melancholy… But his mind was empty, devoid of any solutions to this complex problem. As it always was. He wasn't known for problem-solving, only for the creation of new problems.

Wait, no! There was something he could suggest they do, an idea finally coming to him after racking his brain hard. Now his head hurt, but it would all be worth it if he could help Colette.

“How about we write a note to our mothers as well?”

“Us?” Colette’s attention snapped back to him, her gaze focused again instead of drifting a thousand miles away. “But how would we ever deliver it?”

“Leave that part to me. I’ll tell you more later.” He grinned, leaning closer. This could work! This could actually work, and cheer Colette up... “Trust me?”

“Alright.” Colette nodded without any hint of resistance. She trusted Lloyd completely. If he said he could do it, he would. “Now to just get to writing?”

“Right…” Lloyd groaned, leaning back in his chair and picking up his abandoned pencil, not willing to press it to paper just yet, the blue once again sucking him in as he stared down at the paper. He’d forgotten that he actually had to write something first, his mind skipping over that step completely in his hurry to conceptualise the delivery method. He was already dreading how this was going to go. He was terrible at writing the essays Professor Raine asked for, mixing up words, screwing up grammar and writing with the worst vocabulary known to mankind. And those were in response to simple scenarios like “Timmy went into the forest”, not the complex question of what he even wanted to tell his mother, given how little he knew and how much he yearned to know. This was going to be horrible…

“It doesn’t need to be some eloquent masterpiece, Lloyd,” Colette encouraged, having picked up on his hesitance, as she always did. She patted his shoulder with a comforting hand. “Just write from the heart! I believe in you.”

There were so many things he wanted to tell his mother: a thank you for saving him, appreciation for bringing him into this world, questions about what kind of person she was, what she liked, whether… whether or not she was proud of him. Those were the questions that always simmered in the back of his mind but were occasionally brought to the forefront, especially when he was reminded of the untimely death of his mother. The desire to get any concrete answer burned whenever those questions presented themselves, enough to choke him sometimes with its surprising intensity.

And of course, that final question he didn’t know if he had the courage to voice. What was his father like, and… was he still alive?

But there would be no letter if he didn’t start. So it was time to get to it, as Colette had said.

To write from the heart…

~~~

“Hi, Lloyd!” Colette waved cheerily. Her shoes sank into the grass before his house, making little crinkling sounds as she ran closer. Gripped tightly in her other hand was her Mother’s Day card, folded into a neat and tiny square, as well as the stems of a few pink carnations, their sweet scent suffusing the air around her. The flowers must have been freshly-picked from her grandmother’s garden.

“Do you have everything on you?” He asked, grabbing her free hand and beginning to tug Colette towards the tiny stream that ran by his home. In his pockets were the materials he’d need: the card he’d touched up in his free time, and a few sprigs of herbs, namely rosemary and lavender, plucked from where he grew them by his bedside window and which Dad sprinkled liberally into the stew he made. Slotted under his arm was the pan that he’d whittled out of wood over the week, a little rudimentary with its elliptical shape and rough surface, but good enough to serve its purpose.

“Yep!” Colette waved her card in his face, the words hidden by the folds she had made, the petals of the carnations tickling his nose and making him sneeze. “I brought enough flowers for the both of us. Grandma told me that pink carnations represent a mother’s love, so I thought they were perfect!”

They'd both decided on flowers as a separate gift. Most people bought a bouquet of flowers as a Mother's Day gift. It was a perfectly fine gift, especially since neither of them knew their mothers' likes and dislikes. And it was as he told Genis. His only fuzzy memory of his mother was giving her a handful of wildflowers, freshly picked from the fields. His mother's breezy laughter was all he could recall, and the ghost of a warm smile, lost to time.

“Thanks! Pink carnations... Have you heard the story behind them before?”

Lloyd didn't remember who he'd first heard it from. A story of a mother and two children trying to escape from the wrath of a group of Desians, but who couldn't run fast enough to ditch their pursuers. The mother had asked her children to run, as fast and as far away as they could. She alone had stayed behind to lead the Desians astray for as long as humanly possible. Eventually, she'd been caught, but even under threat of torture and with a sword at her throat, she had refused to divulge the location of her children. Her blood stained the carnations at her feet, turning them forever pink. And that was how pink carnations were born.

It wasn't exactly a kids’ story to be told at bedtime. It was one of those popular stories spread around school a few years back, he didn't know what for. Scaring people?

He knew it was a story that had been passed down for hundreds of years, perhaps longer. According to Dad, however, some elements just didn't add up. The location being a fantastical forest that, as far as he knew, didn’t exist in Sylvarant, the children somehow being able to use magic to help them get away when the mother was powerless… All stories had an element of truth, but this one had its truth buried under millennia of hearsay, the original words mangled, perhaps beyond recognition, by the passage of time. What was the true form of this story, and what was its purpose?

"Yeah. That story… It's really tragic, but… I guess that's just how far a mother would be willing to go. Like yours…" Colette muttered, gaze drifting to the floor.

"Oh!” She cried out seconds later, realising that what she’d said had been insensitive and could have wounded Lloyd. That was the last thing she wanted. Her gaze snapped back up to his, voice frantically leaving her throat and filled with worry. “Oh no, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have said that -"

“It’s fine, Colette. It’s the truth.” The past could not be altered, no matter how much he wished that he could see a different present, one where his parents were alive and well. If that came to be, however, where would he be now? His life would have taken a far different path. Would he have ever met the people who had become his closest friends, the ones who he trusted with everything? Would he have met Dirk, who had provided him not just a roof over his head and food on a plate, but had given him a loving home and taught him everything he knew now?

He would not wish his life any different, for that would mean forfeiting the blessings he’d received despite the bumpy start. Living a happy life did not mean burying his past or forgetting the tragedy that had occurred, but rather, was the best way to honour his mother. That was what Dad said as well, along the same vein as Colette’s words yesterday. All any mother wanted was to see their child grow up happy.

“All I can do is honour that by continuing to live,” he finished, hoping he was on the right track.

“Oh, that’s good. I still shouldn’t have said it though...” Colette muttered with regret, squeezing his hand.

Colette, strangely enough, seemed to have some sort of obsession with his mother’s sacrifice, blurting out a random question once in a blue moon before immediately retracting with awkward apologies. There was no malicious intent there that he could detect, just a frenetic desire for something that he didn’t understand, so he didn’t really mind.

He wondered why, though. What could be so interesting? It wasn’t altogether that foreign of a scenario. Perhaps it was in Iselia, but not across the whole wide world.

“Come on, forget about it,” Lloyd insisted, coming to a stop on the bank of the stream. The clear stream water, a little higher than usual due to last night’s rain, rushed merrily by with a faint gurgling sound mere centimetres from his feet. He’d have to take care not to get too close, and to remind Colette to do the same. He wanted to avoid either of them slipping in the mud and falling in. Controlled swims in the river were fun. Not uncontrolled dives into the water. He didn't want Colette catching a cold, either... “We’ve arrived by the river!”

“So, what does the river have to do with anything? You never explained any further after class!” Colette asked, cocking her heads. The heads of the carnations drooped towards the grass, the stems beginning to bend in her hands.

“Well,” Lloyd said, retrieving the wooden pan and placing it onto the grass (at a safe distance from the mud, where it would no doubt slide into the river and never be seen again, even if that was the point) and rummaging through his pockets for his card. Feeling the familiar, smooth sensation of paper under his fingers, he pulled out what he thought was his note, only to find himself faced with the designs for Colette’s birthday present that he’d doodled in class, looping curves forming the basis of the pendant he’d decided upon.

He hurriedly stuffed that back in. He would not be spoiling the surprise. Back to searching.

“Dwarves have their own set of beliefs, you know?” Lloyd continued, starting what he knew might be a lengthy explanation. He hoped he could remember everything Dad had said; it would be kinda disrespectful to get things wrong. Oh well, nothing much he could do in that case. “Could you set the flowers and your card on the pan?”

Colette hummed in agreement, doing as he directed. Lloyd, having finally found his folded-up card in the labyrinth of his too many pockets, placed it on the pan as well. Thankfully, it had somehow been saved from the fate of being crumpled. Not like his last assignment, which he’d somehow shredded in the workshop… At least it hadn't been eaten by Noishe.

In the end, he’d given his mother a detailed account of the interesting happenings of the past year and wished her a happy Mother's Day, as he would have in the past, sitting by her grave. But he'd also written down all the questions he wanted to ask, and expressed the message that he was doing well, as well as the hope that she was too.

He wondered if, one day, he would actually get to learn more about his mother.

“You’ve mentioned in passing that dwarves worship the Earth summon spirit. Gnome, I think his name was?” Colette let out a little huff of laughter, squatting down next to him to watch him arrange everything on the pan and making minor adjustments herself. She didn’t need to ask him for permission to do so. He trusted her. “If Genis were here, he’d have murdered us already. Pair of idiots,” she mimicked his mocking tone, making a silly face, “as he would say.”

“He’s not here, so it doesn’t matter how many names we forget. Seriously, what is the purpose of remembering so many if we’re never gonna meet the face behind them, anyway? I don’t have that much space in my head like that genius has,” Lloyd grumbled, doing the finishing touches. It looked good, the cards sitting in the centre with the flowers lying together at the top, the herbs completing the picture at the bottom. Aesthe... Aesthetic... Aesthetically pleasing? That was the right word that Genis would use, probably...

“It’s fun to listen to the various stories! They’re so interesting! I also think it’s important to know that history, but…” Colette sighed. “I agree. It’s really hard to remember everything, it makes my head hurt. So, what about Gnome?”

“Dad said that underground, all rivers lead to the centre of the Earth, where Gnome is said to reside.” That always created quite a funny image, since Gnome was said to take the form of a giant mole. Lloyd had never seen a mole before. He didn't know what they looked like, so he couldn’t help but substitute the mole for Noishe. So whenever Dad told that story, all he could visualise was an even more gigantic Noishe, sitting in the middle of a sphere. He couldn’t help but crack up, and Dad would give him a funny look every time, not able to glean what went on in his head. “It’s tradition to send offerings or messages down the river so that it reaches Gnome. Instead of conducting a burial as we do here, bodies are also sent down the river.”

“And Gnome as the guardian deity helps to deliver the messages? Much like the Goddess Martel will hear our prayers and answer in some way, or send the offerings we leave at the church to those who have passed.”

“Yes! That’s it! And the herbs are an offering to Gnome. Apparently, he likes to feast on them?” Lloyd replied. "Don't understand why anyone would chew on herbs alone..." Dad had described the experience before - an entire community would gather by the river to send off their blessings, the subterranean caverns lit by luminous moss and the torches set in their sconces on the walls, the ceiling reflecting the river, shining the ceiling in a pale green, wavering light. Afterwards, a festival would be held, where everyone could eat and drink to their heart's content, for the dead would wish for the living's happiness and the living should celebrate. It sounded like a beautiful experience. Maybe one day, he and Colette could witness such a sight too...

Lloyd was, more than anything, relieved to know that Colette understood. As the Chosen, she should have been the one at the forefront of upholding the almighty nature of the Church of Martel, having that duty entrusted to her, but… She had never condemned him, or tried to convert him. In fact, she was the complete opposite. She never shied away from hearing about Dad’s religion from him, always with an inquisitive shine in her eyes.

As for him… He was torn between the two. Dad hadn’t forced his religion upon him or anything. Neither had he been raised under the teachings of the Church of Martel like Colette or even Genis had. But if Colette was the Chosen… then surely the Goddess must exist for the journey she was to undertake to have purpose. That was as far as his beliefs went. He didn’t know the scriptures or the prayers. Didn't have space in his head for that, or the patience to learn them. Honestly, he probably knew more about Dwarven religion than the Church of Martel. Where did that leave him?

“I know you’re not allowed into the sanctum, so I thought we could do this instead. We’re aboveground, so I know it’s not really the same… Sorry if it’s just a stupid idea.” That was all he was good for, after all. Pranks and shenanigans. He wasn’t insightful. Or smart. Or… thoughtful.

“No, Lloyd, it’s perfect,” Colette whispered, placing her hand atop his comfortingly, those gentle eyes fixed on his, calming him down. “I love it. Let’s send it off, shall we?”

“Alright.”

Together, their hands side-by-side, they pushed the pan down the bank. It slid down the mud and onto the river, where it wobbled from side to side, causing Lloyd’s heart to leap into his throat as he lunged forward to save everything on it from a watery grave - only for the pan to stabilise seconds later, the water lapping peacefully at its sides. That was a close one.

Unfortunately, he’d forgotten about the slippery mud and stepped too far, one foot landing in the mud - only for it to send him sliding forward, straight towards the river.

“Oh!” Colette cried, coming to his rescue and pushing him forcefully in the opposite direction so he landed on his back on the grass with a painful thud. At least it wasn’t face-first into the river.

“Thanks for the save,” he muttered, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head, pain blossoming out from where it’d come in contact with the dirt. The fall had been somewhat cushioned by the soft layer of grass that covered the dirt, but his skin was still going to bruise. “Are you hurt?”

“No! I’m perfectly fine. Not a single scratch on my hands.” Colette, whose momentum had landed her on her knees in the grass as well, slowly crawled closer. “You’ve saved me from falling so many times, so I’m just returning the favour! Though you’ve fallen a lot these past few days… Oh no, did I transfer my horrible luck to you?” Colette gasped, shifting her face incredibly close to his in concern, her nose nearly brushing his.

Lloyd leaned back immediately, heart racing at a thousand miles an hour. This close, he could make out everything - the flecks of darker blue scattered throughout her irises, like tiny oceans scattered across a light blue sky, three in the left and six in the right as he'd memorised a long time ago; the small black circles that were her pupils; his own face reflected in her eyes, looking like a deer that'd been caught in the middle of a spotlight. Her eyes almost seemed to draw him in; he could spend the next eternity just looking into them, losing himself in the blue pools...

No! Now was not the time! Lloyd shook his head to break himself out of his trance, turning his head rapidly to the side so he didn't have to look into her eyes anymore. Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t blush… He repeated in his head like a mantra. Would it be effective?

“Probably not.” He stood up, brushing blades of grass off the back of his legs, thankful for the extra distance it put between him and Colette. He’d barely saved himself from turning into a stuttering mess, knocked completely off-kilter by her proximity. Not that that would clue Colette off. She seemed utterly oblivious to all but the most obvious of cues. “I’ve just been a little clumsy recently, that’s all. And your luck is not horrible.”

Lloyd gave an internal sigh of relief for escaping detection once again, scanning the river for the pan. He spotted it some distance away, being pushed along by the current. It was already nearing the bend in the river. Once it passed that bend, it would be obscured by the thick greenery of the forest, whose trees began to sprout out of the ground at that point.

“Over there. See?” He pointed the pan out as Colette stood. It was getting smaller and smaller… “It’s leaving.”

Her fingertips brushed his, an unvoiced invite to hold her hand that he obliged, interlocking his fingers with hers, their palms pressed firmly against each other.

“I hope it reaches them, somehow,” Colette whispered, the words brought by the wind to rest against his heart.

If he was being honest, this was nothing but a foolish dream held by two children at the cusp of becoming adults, where such dreams melted into ashes and were washed away by cynicism. But... it was one he wished could be granted, either way.

“I hope so too.”

~~~

It was peaceful here, every year without fail, sitting before Lloyd’s mother’s grave. The clearing was visible from the path leading up to Dirk’s house, but hardly anyone ever came here unless they needed the dwarf’s services, and those were few and far between. Most of the time, customers appeared right before winter, to hire Dirk to repair any holes and shore up the walls before the cold arrived. The path was barely travelled by anyone, maintained only by Dirk and Lloyd and slightly overgrown. Right now, it was deserted, leaving Lloyd and Colette alone in each other’s company.

The clearing itself was calming, and held its own strange beauty. Anna’s grave was erected in the centre, the words on it having been masterfully carved by Dirk over a decade ago and still easily legible, even after the slow passage of time. A thin layer of moss grew over the top, a result of years of rain and sunshine. Surrounding the grave was a circle of flowers that Lloyd had planted with careful hands to keep his mother company: ranging from daisies to peonies, creating a rainbow whose heads swayed in the wind and kept expanding with each year that passed and each seed Lloyd nurtured with gentle hands. Sunlight filtered through the branches and leaves of the trees that rose into the sky some distance away, forming golden squares that danced across the grass.

They were resting side-by-side on the stools Lloyd had left out here since… forever ago, to give him a comfortable place to sit whenever he came to talk to his mother. The rain from last night had left a little puddle on the seats, which Lloyd had helped tip off onto the grass before inviting her to sit.

Colette rested her hands on her lap, watching the ants by her feet traverse the ground, avoiding the stagnant pools of water in their neverending journey. Lloyd was silent, having clearly said all that he wanted to in his card, and was content to just enjoy the peace.

She was grateful that he hadn’t asked what she’d written, in the same manner she’d respected his privacy. The contents of her letter were… complicated. She loved her mother, but... At the end of the day, she would have to die. What could she tell her mother, then? Even if her mother were still alive, she would one day have to see her daughter walk willingly to her death. Was there anything more difficult for a mother to bear, that a mother would do everything to prevent? Nothing she said would ever take away that pain.

The letter was also a good place to vent. After all, no one alive would ever read it. Even if it did reach her mother, she wouldn’t get a return message. That was a foolish hope that could not be granted, for the Goddess had more important things to do than listen to the selfish request of a little girl.

She had drawn a self-portrait, despite her absolute hatred of doing so. She couldn’t even look into a mirror without that sense of hopelessness bubbling to the surface, attempting to destroy her resolve to go through with everything that was necessary. The only thing that had guided her trembling hands across the paper to do a decent job was the desire to let her mother know just what she looked like. Every mother deserved to know what their child looked like.

Once again, sitting here in the safety of Lloyd’s company, she couldn’t help but feel the ugly flames of envy, licking at the walls of her heart.

Her mother was buried in the inner sanctum of Iselia’s Church of Martel. Every church across Sylvarant had such a room, the grandest, most imposing and lavishly decorated, comparable to none except the prayer hall. It wasn’t decked out in pews, however, but instead with graves, reserved only for the Mana Lineage and… what grisly remains the clergy could find of the Chosens who’d failed to reach the Tower of Salvation. For those who’d been cleanly wiped off the face of Sylvarant, a commemorative grave was erected, the insides utterly empty. Colette had nightmares, sometimes, about being trapped there, alone and unable to breath, the darkness closing in on her as the clergy buried her alive. Just another nightmare from the wide menagerie that haunted her.

The inner sanctum was not to be visited by random strangers, only fellow members of the Mana Lineage, and only on select days where the Goddess’ blessing was strongest, in order to preserve its sanctity. How those days had been decided on, Colette didn’t know. They didn’t feel any different to any other day in the year. But those were the rules, and she was not to question them. Mother’s Day wasn’t one of those special days, so she couldn’t bring offerings on the one day of the year that specially commemorated mothers.

Wasn’t it lonely? No matter how beautiful the inner sanctum was, with its stained glass windows that turned the filtered light into a rainbow of colours, and the chandeliers cut from crystals that reflected the sunlight; it was a cold sort of beauty, enough to make her shiver and feel out of place every time she entered. She was tiny in comparison to her mother’s grave, the headstone in the wall polished and spotless, reflecting her own pale face back at her. There were no impurities or mistakes to be found. It was nothing like the common graveyard right outside the church, which family members of the deceased frequented, bringing gifts and offerings, telling tales of the lives that had been passed while their loved one was absent.

It was nothing like this clearing, so full of life breathed into it by a loving son. Sometimes, she swore she could feel the love of a mother long passed, wrapped around her like a warm blanket, capable of keeping even the most biting chill away. Lloyd must have been able to feel it too, being able to visit anytime, whenever the desire presented itself. Quick and easy, without traditions and regulations holding him back.

It was horrible to feel this way, yet another ugly emotion that she shouldn’t let herself experience. She was meant to be magnanimous and compassionate, with no space in her heart for envy.

Some days she wished she had never been born the Chosen, that her mother had never been part of the Mana Lineage. She didn’t want to be different, didn’t want the “honour” of having an ornate burial ground or special treatment. She just wanted to be able to visit her mother’s grave and tell her mother the most mundane of things: how her day went, the friends she’d made, the dreams she held, the life she would never get to live.

Maybe if she’d never been her mother’s daughter, her mother would still be alive today, smiling and laughing and blessing the world with that beauty Father said she possessed…

“Do you think our mothers can see us, down here?” She asked, leaning her head on Lloyd’s shoulder, wanting to forget the thoughts that swirled in her head like a tornado, overpowering all else in its path. The only thing that could possibly be stronger was Lloyd's comforting warmth, seeping slowly through her from their point of contact. That was a slightly risky move on her part, but they were close enough for her to be confident she wouldn’t accidentally send them both toppling to the ground. She wasn't that clumsy.

“Why not?” Lloyd answered, placing an arm around her shoulder. “Dad believes that the spirits of those who have passed go back into the earth. They form the very dirt beneath our feet, helping to support new life. Wouldn’t they be able to see everything we do, then? And what do you mean, down here?”

“Oh, that’s a really interesting belief!” She really needed to have further discussions with Lloyd about religion. They were always so fun! The Church so often preached that Martel was the only Goddess and believing otherwise was heresy, but she didn’t really believe that. There were so many different groups of people throughout history that had held their own beliefs. They must have believed with all of their heart that their religion was the one true religion.

Lloyd wasn’t raised as a believer. He wasn’t the smartest person, just like her, but he wasn’t irrational. And he would always be her friend, no matter what he believed.

She wanted to keep an open mind - pushing people away just because they held their own set of beliefs sounded like the exact opposite of being accepting.

“Well, the Church of Martel says that everyone who believes in the Goddess will ascend to heaven and become an angel when they die. That’s what I meant.”

“Heaven, huh? Is that in the sky?” Lloyd pointed upwards, towards the cloudless azure sky, the sun winking down at them.

Colette couldn’t help but break out into laughter at that. A ridiculous statement, but one that she’d expect out of Lloyd’s mouth. “I don’t think it’s supposed to be in the sky, but sure! Why not?”

“Well, then your mother should be able to see you. If you’re so high up and you can fly around as an angel, surely you can see everything across the whole world, right? Your mother must be so proud of you.”

“Ah… Really? I’m not smart like Genis or sensible like Professor Raine. I’m not good with my hands like you… I’m just an average girl. What is there to be proud of?”

“Did you forget you’re the Chosen, Colette? You’ll save us all from the Desians someday. That’s plenty to be proud of!”

Her hands clenched into fists as she bit her lip. If all her worth came from being the Chosen… Would her mother still be proud of her, then, when she sometimes wondered what it would be like if that duty wasn’t hers to carry? She was nothing more than a child who wished to shirk her all-important duty, unworthy of the praise everyone showered upon her. She didn’t deserve anything…

How hard it must be for her mother. Once again, Colette could do nothing but make things worse.

“Besides, you’re not average. You’re really kind, and understanding -”

It’s kind of Lloyd, to see good in everything, even her. But she didn’t think those qualities were particularly outstanding. That was just how everyone should be, right?

“ -and you draw really well -”

A blatant lie. It was nice of Lloyd to be so encouraging…

“ -and you’re so pretty…”

Eh?

She shifted away from Lloyd, hands clasped atop her chest as her cheeks warmed. Had she heard right? “What - what did you just say?”

“Ah -” Lloyd blanked, his arm falling uselessly back to his side. He stared at her in silence for a few seconds as his brain caught up to his mouth, which had been running on auto-pilot. An expression of utter horror overtook his face as he shook his head frantically. “I didn’t say anything! At all! Just pretend the last minute never happened!”

“I -” She tried her best to calm her racing heart, taking deep breath after deep breath. It was nothing more than a stray compliment that Lloyd was feeling a little awkward over. That was all. There was nothing more to be found there, nothing to read into. Just Lloyd being his nice self, as usual. “I, uh… Thank you?” But it was common courtesy to show gratitude, as her father had taught her.

“I meant it…” Lloyd muttered, leaning back slightly. He was staring at a single blade of grass with enough intensity to possibly set it on fire, face slowly flushing red.

“Ahem,” Lloyd coughed, refusing to meet her gaze. “To get back on topic, if your mother has become an angel, then won’t you see her again someday? Your actual father is also an angel, isn’t he? So that would make sense…”

“I guess so!” Colette said, purposely trying to inject cheer into her voice. “My job is to become an angel, after all!” Lloyd didn’t know the true meaning behind his words. She would see her mother again, for she herself would soon go to heaven… Would she qualify, she wondered?

It’s not like she even wanted to go… It was said to be an eternal paradise, but how could any place without her friends be that incredible? She couldn’t imagine it. No matter how serene, no matter how fluffy the clouds or how endless the fun, how could it be anything but devoid of soul when she could never know Genis’ wit again, never know Raine’s harsh but fair judgement again, never know Lloyd’s boundless loyalty and his smile again?

“This has been nice. Thank you so much for the great idea, Lloyd! I would have never thought to do this if it wasn't for you,” she said, cocking her head and smiling, hair falling down the side of her arm. Was Lloyd stealing glances at her, or was she imagining it? A bit hard to imagine the way his head kept see-sawing between the grass and her face... But why...?

“Yeah!” Lloyd replied eagerly. “Shall we do the same next year? I’m sure there’ll be a lot more things we’ll want to tell our mothers then.”

Next year… Would she even still be here, next year?

She didn’t want to get Lloyd’s hopes up, not when they could be easily shattered in nothing but seconds. She couldn’t make any promises, for she would no doubt have to break them, but…

Colette took Lloyd’s hand, praying with all her heart that she would see another year, and maybe another after that.

“I’d like that.”