Shared Perspective

“You want your training session tomorrow? You’ve got it,” John said, as he finally returned to his realm with Sophia. “I’ll be training too, even if it has to be in a separate Barrier. It looks like this war has decided to come home a lot sooner than we originally anticipated.”

“Very well. I look forward to our day together.”

John said little else as they trudged back toward the house, but he could feel the weight of Sophia’s gaze on him whenever he looked away from her.

“Do that woman’s words still weigh upon you?” Sophia asked quietly.

“Can’t hide much, certainly not from you of all people,” John mused somberly.

“Your pain is my pain, Father. Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t think there’s even anything to talk about. I just… I keep hearing a voice in my head, whispering little questions. What if she’s telling the truth? Even if she’s insane, even if they’re murderous cretins, what if they really are planning on finding a way to bring everyone back?” John sighed. “I know it’s insane. Even more insane to consider following through on anything. No reason to think they’d let me leave afterward, whether it worked or not – maybe especially if it worked.”

“And even if they spare you, they will not spare Springfield. You heard what she said as clearly as I, Father. They will torch and burn until they find what they are seeking.”

“Even if it doesn’t exist, because they’ve deluded themselves into thinking that it’s an absolute certainty,” John grumbled, frustrated at the woman’s conviction and how much it had caused him to doubt himself.

“The **** and delusional are often the most dangerous… but while it is important not to underestimate their devotion, we also cannot let it sway us.”

“I don’t really believe that what they seek is possible, but… it doesn’t mean I can just turn off that voice. That I can stop wondering what if they’re right. What if there really was some chance of bringing her back, and I’m either missing it or I’m going to help snuff it out myself.”

“Father, if I could rip the heart from my own chest and see you two reunited as the last sight before my dying eyes, I would not hesitate for an instant. But you must realize that it cannot be.”

“I… I know.”

There was a silence for a few beats before they finally reached the house. John’s hand had just touched the handle when Sophia’s rested on his shoulder.

“You should rest with me tonight, Father. Your mind is uneasy.”

“It will be uneasier if I sleep.”

Another beat passed, a knowing look washing over Sophia’s face.

“They still come to you.”

It wasn’t a question, but John still felt himself nodding as he answered.

“Almost every night, especially since we got back to Springfield. It’s the same thing every night – some cold, dark void I float in, never sure how long I’ve been there. I hear Seras screaming, calling out to me. I see that strange symbol, but nothing else. I try looking for her, every single time, but I can never tell where the sound is coming from. It feels like it’s echoing around in my brain.”

“Very well,” Sophia said, though the sound of trouble still rumbled through her voice.

“I’ll have Aclysia to keep me company, and Orria, if she feels like sticking around the house tonight. Or anyone else who’s having a hard time sleeping,” John mused, letting out something between a laugh and a sigh as he opened the door and stepped inside. “I appreciate your concern, Sophia. I’ll be alright, though.”

Sophia narrowed her eyes as John walked away. Sadness filled her gaze as she watched her Father stride away. He mumbled something to himself as he stepped inside, the wood of the door muffling his words and his voice too low for even her sharp hearing to catch what was said, but he sounded sad – sad and angry. She wanted to comfort him, to spend the night by his side. But she needed her rest.

Tomorrow would not be easy for either of them.

"That boy will be the **** of me," Moira growled as the door to her father's study finally slammed shut behind them. "How has he consistently drawn the attention of almost every major player on the continent?!"

"He is rather unique, but he's hardly alone. Remember all the times we've identified spies within our numbers, or someone has tried to kidnap you. Then consider how much others value his abilities."

"I know, Father," Moira said, sighing. "I do wish we could trust him to walk the streets without being accosted or **** on a regular basis, though."

"I believe I said much the same to Etriyya once, shortly after we moved here." Lord Brighton chuckled. "I believe you are only frustrated because you've never had to deal with this from the other side. You two are quite alike, you know."

"We are not!" Moira protested.

"Stubborn, principled, headstrong, a bit arrogant..."

"Father!"

"...and also kind, protective, and caring. Honestly, your repressed nature and his fear of that hammer of yours are the only reasons I'm not surprised it took so long for you two to confess."

"Y-you know about that?!" Moira blurted out, a blush to match her hair quickly forming.

"It's obvious enough. You two don’t seem to realize how differently you hold yourselves when you're around one another. Do you intend to pursue things further with him?"

'I... we hadn't really discussed that yet," Moira admitted.

"Of course not. Sitting down and talking about your feelings like adults would be far too effective," Lord Brighton said, a wry grin breaking over his features.

A long silence fell between them, the teasing nature of the conversation abruptly fading. Lord Brighton seemed to busy himself with the maps and papers across his desk, while Moira simply gazed into the flickering light of the fireplace.

"You do know that you can't really be with him. Not in the way you both might want."

Moira stayed quiet, only offering the slightest of nods.

"I know it hurts, but we both have our duties to the Order. Even if you chose to ignore those, the boy would be lucky to keep the Rose for a week."

"Wh-who said anything about the-"

"You must realize that it cannot be,” Lord Brighton said, his voice weighing upon the room, and especially on his young daughter.

“I… yes, Father.”

“Perhaps one day the Abyss will change such that we need not worry so much about what may happen to our family, to our Order, if we are left without the Rose… but until that day comes our personal and romantic lives will always be second to the good of those who rely on us for safety and justice. That is the blessing of the Lady – and the burden of our Order.”

“Yes, Father.”

Lord Brighton frowned. A meek acquiescence from Moira was never a sign of good things. He contemplated calling her back, but remained still as she slowly shambled from his study. Moira said something to herself as she left, firm and fiery as the Warden herself, but the words were lost in the metallic slam of the door behind her. Lord Brighton let a gentle sigh escape him as the door slowly creaked shut behind her, then turned his eyes back to the maps and plans below.

That was not going to make the next few days particularly pleasant.

Kim stood at the center of the arena, her opponents lifeless and bloodied before her. Her sword glistened crimson to match the blood pooling at her feet, and her breaths came in great, heaving gasps. Gone was the calm of a slayer, replaced with wrathful desperation.

With the dying breath of her last target now little more than a memory, the Barrier quickly faded. Kim stood alone once more, the blood from her weapon fading, along with all that stained her clothes save her own. In the training arena of the Moon clan once more, she allowed herself a moment's rest.

"I see you are pushing yourself as hard as ever."

Well, perhaps she didn’t stand quite so alone after all.

“Only preparing for war, Father,” Kim said curtly, giving her blade one quick tap in the air to ensure any of her own blood that might have dripped onto the enchanted metal was removed without a trace, before she sheathed it.

“As are we all. I will be leaving shortly; Lord Brighton has called an urgent meeting to discuss the events of this afternoon. Apparently the young late-bloomer encountered one of the Northern Ashes in Springfield itself.”

“Because he was out busying himself with errands while he should have been here, training with me!” Kim growled. Not for the first time she cast her eyes to her phone, sitting on a shelf, safely away from the danger of Barrier training, as well as the ever-present threat of Kim’s growing annoyance. The screen was still dark – not a single message from John Newman, something that had grown more aggravating to her over time, not less.

“He has been quite busy of late, after all. And he has his own preparations to make, as do we all.”

“His abilities would allow us to make those preparations so much more quickly that half of them wouldn’t be necessary at all, Father!”

The last words came out with perhaps more venom than she had intended, but Kim refused to shy away from them once they had escaped. Her gaze snapped from the phone to her father, whose visage was as immovable as ever when he was dealing with his daughter, stuck in that eternal look of a father watching over their adorably misguided child. Kwang Moon was a patient man, a little too patient – he never responded to Kim’s barbs, even when she was in her foulest of moods.

“We cannot assume success no matter how hard we train, or what preparations we make. The Brightons have already secured their escape from Springfield; we must be sure that in the worst case, we still have a place to call home.”

“Home is not a place you flee from at the first sign of trouble,” Kim responded, narrowing her eyes.

“No. It is a place where you feel safe, and where the ones you love can too,” her father said, his voice gentle despite his somewhat patronizing expression. “I have many wonderful memories in Springfield, just as I did in my old home, but it is not this place that is special, it is the people I have shared it with.”

“Those memories are worth something too! You waste effort that could be spent training, striving to win this war, instead of planning for our defeat.”

“I have already agreed to help the Order with this battle, which by itself is more danger than I would like to place our clan in. I will not charge blindly into this war without a plan; I cannot risk the lives of those who depend on us by growing arrogant and believing us somehow infallible.”

Kim said little; she knew that her father was right, somewhere deep inside, but she could not allow herself to acknowledge it. Her entire life had been spent training to overcome the failures of weakness that had plagued them before; she would not question that now.

“I understand your feelings, Kim,” her father said, voice growing softer even as he turned away. “I wish more than anything that I could give you a home that could not be taken from us. But this world is not a kind one, and we are not strong enough to **** it to be what it is not. You must understand that it cannot be.”

Kim remained silent as her father strode away, waiting until he had departed, until the door had latched behind him before she spoke again.

“Whether it was meant to be or not… I don’t care. I will make it be. I will bend this world to my will. Just you watch, Father.”

"Would he like it more if I moved it over by the windows? No, he probably prefers the corner. Then again, he says he loves games, so he probably spends a lot of time in the dark. What if I bought blackout curtains...?"

Layla stood at the center of her room with both hands clutched gently over her cheeks, blushing furiously at the mere thought of John seating himself inside her new house. She sashayed side to side as she surveyed her living room, eyes darting over each piece of new furniture. She had spent her time since returning to Springfield gathering a full suite of furnishings for her home, just in case she got another chance to bring John to her house. The mere thought of him escorting her home, of all that such might lead to when accompanied by such a handsome, virile man… Layla cursed the wasted opportunity. It seemed she had quite a few of those, lately.

From his choice of association with the Order, to his associations with other women, to the constant intrusions of hostile parties in his life, all the way down to the fact that even when they traveled together they had hardly had a safe and relaxed moment together… Every missed chance haunted Layla, and every successful moment spent with him drew her further into the madness that was John Newman. He was a **** she could never have enough hits of, a person she could never spend enough time around, and yet constantly pulled away from her even as she constantly tried to grasp him just a little bit harder.

If Layla had been a lesser woman, she might have given up on a man like John, taken the constant intrusions into his life as a sign he was too much trouble. That despite Layla’s feelings to the contrary, perhaps the universe hadn’t really designed them specifically for each other. She might have listened to the voice in her head months ago when John hadn’t even been seen for over half a year, heard the whispers that told her it could not be.

A lesser woman would’ve concerned herself with those thoughts, let herself be consumed by them. But Layla was stronger than that, Layla had more determination. Layla didn’t care what the universe had designed them for, not anymore. It no longer mattered what anyone else planned, not even Gaia herself. Layla had come this far and would not allow herself to entertain thoughts of failure.