La-Bastille

Verse Huit - the long hand of the clock

Verse Huit – the long hand of the clock

Clockwise, life will decay. Counterclockwise, it will heal. Neither applies to me, because time has imprisoned my being. Oh, my dear child, I’ve been waiting...for my end is your beginning, and your end is my start. Together we are a canvass unblemished. Together we’ll become finite.

No more failures from the past...no more successes from the future...time is irrelevant to you and I. So, stay alive my dear sweet child, because only you can grant my freedom. Live, train, and be strong...because you see...you and me...we’re cursed to live here...for all eternity.

—Cardinal Neumann, La Bastille 2089 AP

A hundred years have passed in this cycle, and yet Cardinal Neumann feels like he hasn’t aged at all.

He has lived through many a lifetimes, not counting the one right now that he’s currently living.

He can no longer count in total the number of millennia he’s been around. But he’s certain that it’s long enough to know what loneliness truly feels like. He has seen both sides of life—how it grows and wilts, lags and advances, prospers and dies. What’s left to see when you have seen everything?

“There, there...Cerulea. All these years, and you still watch me from the shadows. You do know that I see everything, yes?” the Cardinal asks, and then waves his hand. “Come to the light where I can see you. No use hiding from the ‘all-seeing eye.’

A woman, an old woman, frail in stature but strong in spirit, walks in. “And all this time you still wear that mitre.” She shakes her head as she steps into the light. “They used to call your mitre the Papal Tiara in the 1300s. But then, to keep the spirit of Christmas alive, they made it to look red...like a Santa hat, which was, what do they call it again?”

The Cardinal grins. “A camauro.”

“Right...” Grandma Cerulea smiles. “...I was by your side then, and I’m still standing here beside you until now. What have I done to deserve such a curse, Neumann?” she throws her hands haplessly to her sides, in a gesture to show that she’s grown tired. “I’ve grown tired of watching you watching me and everybody else in this world.”

“Well...” Neumann clears his throat, dons his mitre, or papal hat over his head, then says, “...there was a time in the 1960s when I didn’t wear a velvet cap, you know.” he taps his head. “I wasn’t always a pope by choice. You know that.”

“And I wasn’t always a nun either.” Cerulea grins. “How are you, Neumann? You look old.”

The Cardinal raises his hand, his prized scepter materializing. “I can say the same with you.”

The old woman chuckles, but her laughter soon fades as her expression becomes serious. “He has come to put an end to your reign.” she whispers in a low voice, nearing the Cardinal. “What does it feel like knowing that you’re so close to mortality?” she glides her fingertips over the curve of the opulent crystalline chair Neumann is sitting on. “What does it feel knowing that you’re so close to the end, hm?”

The Cardinal leers, but his sinister smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “The thought is...liberating.”

“I can’t say I’m not happy for you.” Cerulea leans closer, and in the mirror opposite she can see how old she and Neumann had become. She inspects her features, and that of Neumann’s...fascinated by how they can conceal their age using magic, just to hide the blemish of their true identities. “The moment that child stole the apple from my grandson, back at the funfair, I knew that he was the one. I knew that our time had started to tick. And that soon, we shall earn our freedom.”

Neumann scoffs. “You are much too confident, Cere. You said the same thing back in 1885.”

“Aw, Neumann, you haven’t changed a bit, old timer. Have faith, you’re a Cardinal for f**k’s sake.” she tips the Cardinal’s skull cap out of place. “This time I can feel it. And I know you sense it too. He’s going to be the be-all and end-all of our lives’ miseries I tell you. This time...I know that you’ll get it right.”

“Always so optimistic.” the Cardinal looks up, amused of his old friend. “No wonder you became Prime Minister of UK for ten years.”

Cerulea regards herself with kindness in the mirror, smoothing a brow. “Yes, that was a good run. It was nice living as Margaret Thatcher. The world then had so much potential...so much power to control. But alas, I was a good girl...and I played the part.”

“And you played the part quite well, you had a stellar political career.”

“Oh don’t flatter. Well...it was nice to catch up and all.” Grandma Cerulea smoothes another wrinkle on her pristine white dress. “But I should be going...just remember...bring Cid closer into realizing his true potential. Groom him oh so carefully. I can’t wait to see the end of this never-ending cycle.”

The Cardinal raises his hand to bid the woman goodbye, and with his raised hand is the promise that this time, no matter how difficult, he will oversee that the Chaos Bringer does its job. No matter the cost.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Dom and Cid walk into shops at Grand Avenue and Central. It’s a fun-filled day that can only be afforded by people who have all the time in the world. Fortunately, it’s Dominic’s day of rest. He did his rounds early, and was replaced by Voltaire to stand guard at their post in case of emergencies.

As a patrolling officer—who got demoted from being an Academy Militant due to a miscalculation on his part—Dominic is well-versed with La Bastille’s safety regulations, and have had training as a field medic too. So it’s no surprise that he, Voltaire and Tabitha, always stand guard, always on safety watch. For their skills monopolize most of the duties and responsibilities in keeping La Bastille safe.

Cid has never luxuriated on himself, nor has he ever spent a cid on any object he fancies.

Dominic watches the boy as he traces his fingertips over the many different kinds of merchandise he looks at but can never afford. “Those earrings will look nice on you,” says the lady standing behind the counter where jewelries are displayed. “You have a beautiful profile for such a lovely girl.”

Cid can only act surprised while Dom chuckles at the lady’s observation. “Oh, I’m not a girl.” Cid says, managing a polite tone underneath his embarrassment.

“Oh my, I can’t believe you’re a boy. Let me take a look at you.”

The lady scrutinizes Cid and how beautiful he is and it gives her an idea.

With permission from Dominic, who the lady deduced as the boy’s date, she ushers Cid into another display where wristwatches sparkle and gleam. The signature timepieces are luxurious and the lady—for a lack of anything better to do—decides to use Cid as a canvass to entertain herself, gushing over the dainty wrist of the lovely little boy. “Your wrist is so ladylike, my god, you’re skinnier than me. I’m so jealous,” she hisses as she slings and wraps and puts on the boy the different wristwatches.

“This particular one...” the lady turns Cid’s hand around, admiring how the item looks on him. “...looks great on you. You should keep this. It’s made for you.” Cid looks to Dom and the man simply shrugs, he too can’t afford any of the timepieces, and is simply standing watch to admire Cid, just like the lady.

Cid looks at the watch one last time before saying, “But I don’t have money to pay for—”

With a nonchalant wave of her hand, she says, “Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

“What does on the house mean?”

“That means it’s free.”

“Oh.” Cid pouts then looks to Dominic, who’s shaking his head at the way the little boy manages to just get stuff for free. “But really, miss, you don’t have to. I don’t think we can afford—”

“Oh nonsense,” the lady dismisses him with a smile. “My boss doesn’t need to know. I’ll just tell him someone screwed up our inventory. Just make sure you visit me often. I’d like to take photographs of you wearing our jewelry. I won’t pay you any Cid, but I’ll be sure to loan you some new arrivals.” She winks.

“Heh.” Dominic chuckles with a smile as he and Cid wave the lady goodbye. “What did I tell you? With your charm, you’ll always get stuff for free. But I think we need to get you some proper footwear.” He whistles pointing at Cid’s bare feet. “I don’t want you getting blisters on your feet.”

Shortly thereafter, the two have managed to buy new shoes. And with a gallant stride, Cid points his shoed toes and crosses them at the ankles, twirling uninhibitedly in front of the mirror to admire the protection his feet had been afforded. “If only my parents can see me now,” he whispers, gazing at himself in the mirror, looking more and more a La Bastillian. He stretches out his legs, genuinely delighted that his feet had protection.

“You hungry, kid?” Dom inquires.

“I think so. I feel lightheaded.”

“Well, that ain’t good.” Dominic wears a look of worry. “Let’s take the walkalator connecting to Central. There we’ll find good eats.”

Tinkerton is hush-hush about their date. He rolls and toils behind the couple—observing, watching, gathering data and taking notes. The robot, despite its reservations for the soldier, has managed to turn a blind eye towards Dom’s lecherous advances, for it knows that the man means well, despite his blatant crudity and foul use of language.

Cid takes the ascending walkalator while Dom takes the stairs holding his hand. The soldier keeps up with the steps, not letting go of Cid’s hand as they go up.

The boy rides the walkalator, feeling the cool, clean air rush through his body.

Such simple joys he relish, and it’s making Dom see La Bastille in a new light. The boy is making him realize that La Bastille may not be such a bad place after all...when seen through the eyes of an innocent child.

Everywhere is always clean, because in every corner is a spot that vacuums air and any unwanted residue. Kids sometimes place their feet near the slats, feeling the air getting suctioned through their toes.

La Bastille is reaching the height of its technological prime. There are still places that embrace the old, thanks to the people who believe that preserving history is just as important as looking into the future. However, La Bastille is most definitely a modern blueprint soon to be realized. A city that would soon rise to become an unprecedented engineering marvel, given a decade or so, depending on how fast the La Bastillian’s work.

Dominic watches Cid. He observes the way the boy sees everything. There is so much color in Cid’s eyes. He has noticed the boy’s blue and green eyes before, but he has never seen them glow like they do now.

Slowly, and unbeknownst even to himself, Dom is developing a strong sense of desire to pluck the boy out of the ruins. To take him away from where he used to live, because clearly this is where the boy belongs. In La Bastille.

“Are you okay?” Cid asks as they both reach the top of the service walkalator.

Dominic smiles. “Happy?”

Cid nods enthusiastically, and then leans on his tippy-toes to kiss Dom in the cheek.

Surprised, the man rubs the spot Cid has kissed, a devilish smile spreading over his masculine features. “What’s with the kiss?” he asks, grinning, and with a gentle hand takes Cid’s proffered hand.

“It’s on the house,” Cid beams, and it makes Dominic smile.

Dom feels a stirring in his heart. A kind of ache he hasn’t felt before.

He puffs out his chest a little then straightens up, and it makes Cid ogle.

The smell of something meaty and baked is thick in the air. It stirs both their hunger, making their stomachs growl and grumble. Dom licks his lips. “Would you like a hamburger?”

Cid blinks...blinks...and keeps on blinking. He pouts. “What’s a hamburger?”

Dom’s mouth forms into a small O. “You’ve never eaten a hamburger?”

“It’s my first time to hear the word.”

“Whoa, okay. Um, we’ll get some.” The soldier smiles, a cunning, wolfish smile full of pride. Another first, he thinks to himself. “We’ll throw in some crisscut fries and some hash browns too if you’re keen.”

“Tinky, search hamburger, crisscut fries and harsh browns.”

“It’s hash browns,” Dominic corrects.

“Oh, I’m sorry, hash browns. Search hash browns.”

The trusty automaton gets to work, and in a matter of seconds, holograms are projected for Cid to study and observe. “Oh boy, those look really good!” The smell of food in the air, combined with the mouthwatering images, do nothing but intensify his surge of hunger. Dom notices and takes Cid’s hand, taking them both to the hamburger place he was talking about.

Red and yellow are the predominant colors. Cid doesn’t know what to say upon seeing the place. He lifts his attention to the awning and reads the name on display. McDonald’s it says.

“Is McDonald’s a person?” the boy asks.

“Yeah.” Dom replies. “He used to be a clown. But people don’t think he’s funny no more so he’s just a name now.” he shrugs, and then laughs a little.

“You make it sound like a joke without a punch line.”

“Oh hey, that’s a good one!” Dominic praises. “You’re funny.”

“Oh! Now I remember! McDonald’s is America’s gift to the world! I read it once on a pamphlet but I didn’t know it offers food. Wow. This is where we’ll do a ‘Dine In’ right?”

“That’s right. And yeah, it used to be America’s gift to the world. But there’s only La Bastille now.”

The two fall in line and give their orders. After which they take their meals to a booth where they waste no introduction as their mouths get stuffed with burgers. Cid’s palate is immediately coated by an array of flavors he hasn’t tasted before. His meals back home were always bland. Oatmeal is their main diet, along with some wheatgrass and other healthy stuff. His stomach appreciates the combined tastes of something new. But more delighted is his spirit, for he is sharing a hearty meal with his lovely man of a soldier.

After they have eaten and have had their fill, Dominic feels like he wants more. He wants to satisfy a craving.

Not food.

Not edible.

It’s Cid.

The boy.

He needs more of Cid.

He wants more of the boy.

Dom gently takes the boy’s left hand by the wrist and turns it around, paying close attention to his fingers...and one in particular. “Is there something wrong?” Cid asks, watching as Dom plays with his ring finger. “Is something the matter?”

“No. Nothing.” Dom smiles looking up, and at the same time he realizes that it didn’t take a lot for him to smile. He cannot fathom what magic the boy has. But the kid has managed to turn his usual frown upside down. “I had fun today, Cid. I really did. It was a pleasant experience I don’t mind repeating.”

Cid flashes a smile, and it’s a subtle reminder of what Dominic had lost. A smile. A reflexive form of reaction that comes naturally to someone experiencing happiness. And as the boy smiles he’s reminded strongly how much Cid can be of use to him in getting himself back. Maybe if he spends more time with the kid, then maybe he’ll see the world in a different light. A much brighter perspective. A positive one.

For a moment, Dominic debates if using the boy to achieve happiness was truly worth it. And in that same thought he thinks yes, for as long as he’s not bringing the boy any harm then he’ll be okay. They’ll be okay.

“Do-do.”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you like touching me?”

“Because touching you...is where it all begins.”

BOOYAH! EL-OH-EL ^^ told ya I’d write something. OH YEAH BAAYYBEEH! The juices are flowin’ now. Ooh I feel like a volcano. I wanna explode! BAHAHAHAHA!! ^^

(straightens up, smoothes the lapel on my shirt, irons a hem out of place, clears my throat) Apologies. How I conducted myself was very...unprofessional. I hope you enjoyed this Verse.