It's only been 10 years for me. But I'm also very young for my kind--merely thirty.
[Based on what Balthier's just said--half a century--viera as long-lived in his world as in hers.
Lizzie pauses, taking a sip of her tea before she finally gets to the actual story of why she left the Wood behind.]
I didn't realize how stifiling the Green Word was until the first time I happened upon an outsider. He was a Garlean deserter, a conscript who saw an opportunity to bolt and took it. He was hiding in the Wood, waiting for his platoon to give up the search and move on. I knew he wasn't supposed to be there, but something about the way he asked... nay, the way he begged me to let him stay swayed me.
[Her voice is uncharacteristically wistful, full of fondness and sorrow.]
He gave me his name--Siggurd--and for four days, I brought him food and listened to his stories of the world beyond the Wood. Of Garlemald, Eorzea, and Ala Mhigo. Of his family. I was transfixed.
On the fifth day, he was dead. Killed for daring to invade the sanctity of the Wood. [She says this with no small amount of disgust.] Who he was didn't matter. How much he'd suffered, how terrified he was, how all he wanted was to be free and see his wife and daughter again... it didn't matter. It's against the Green Word, and the Green Word is absolute.
I left the next day.
[Lizzie exhales slowly--she hasn't spoken of this in quite some time, and it doesn't get any easier each time she speaks of it. A decade isn't much time in a viera's life. In many ways, the wound is still fresh.]
On my star, viera who leave the Wood leave their names there. I haven't been Fidona since I left. I took on a new name when I arrived in Dalmasca, that of Siggurd's daughter, Lizbet. Lizzie.
no subject
[Based on what Balthier's just said--half a century--viera as long-lived in his world as in hers.
Lizzie pauses, taking a sip of her tea before she finally gets to the actual story of why she left the Wood behind.]
I didn't realize how stifiling the Green Word was until the first time I happened upon an outsider. He was a Garlean deserter, a conscript who saw an opportunity to bolt and took it. He was hiding in the Wood, waiting for his platoon to give up the search and move on. I knew he wasn't supposed to be there, but something about the way he asked... nay, the way he begged me to let him stay swayed me.
[Her voice is uncharacteristically wistful, full of fondness and sorrow.]
He gave me his name--Siggurd--and for four days, I brought him food and listened to his stories of the world beyond the Wood. Of Garlemald, Eorzea, and Ala Mhigo. Of his family. I was transfixed.
On the fifth day, he was dead. Killed for daring to invade the sanctity of the Wood. [She says this with no small amount of disgust.] Who he was didn't matter. How much he'd suffered, how terrified he was, how all he wanted was to be free and see his wife and daughter again... it didn't matter. It's against the Green Word, and the Green Word is absolute.
I left the next day.
[Lizzie exhales slowly--she hasn't spoken of this in quite some time, and it doesn't get any easier each time she speaks of it. A decade isn't much time in a viera's life. In many ways, the wound is still fresh.]
On my star, viera who leave the Wood leave their names there. I haven't been Fidona since I left. I took on a new name when I arrived in Dalmasca, that of Siggurd's daughter, Lizbet. Lizzie.