Categories > Anime/Manga > Escaflowne > White Nymph
Those Who Stare Down Death
0 reviewsRephina, aka Refina, Rephiinu, or Rafina, pilots a white Alseides. Only the Ispano make white Guymelefs...but first, she has to deal with her cousin Ryuon and some guy named Dilandau.
0Unrated
Chapter Three: Those Who Stare Down Death
"Boy, open up! Where's your cousin?" Paxton Jetura had never personally visited Ryuon's flat before, but the young man had a pretty good idea as to why his father chose to appear this particular morning.
"Let me guess," he told his father, leaning lazily on the doorframe like a contented puma, blond hair still mussed from his pillows. "She told you about the army thing."
"She attempted to disown me!" Paxton cried, still outraged. Ryuon sighed. And Rephina had returned home yesterday, all smug and confident, claiming it had gone well! What had she done?
"You might as well come in," he answered heavily, backing out of the door and resigning himself to the inevitable. "She's already gone, but I at least want to know what happened."
o0o0o0o0o0o0
The soldiers had been given a morning of leave to "prepare" for their examinations by Commander Albatou that afternoon, so the complex was more or less deserted when Rephina entered. Gatty, it seemed, was the only soldier putting his morning to its intended use; as he jogged laps around the fence he gave Rephina a friendly, if confused, wave, which she wryly returned. Ryuon was using his morning to rest up; Kagero, to work off punishment for staying out too long. What was the guest of honor doing? she wondered. Preparing? How?
"Miss Jetura." She was surprised the private at the front desk knew her name, but on further consideration decided it must have been because of Ryuon. "What do you need today?" His tone was pleasant, the words and meaning anything but. Relax, kid/, she thought. /I swear I won't make a habit of bothering the army. At least, not from this side of that desk.
"Could you point me in the direction of the recruitment office, please?" she asked pleasantly, speaking rather quickly but carefully enunciating each word. I am not nervous. I'm not.
"This is it." The boy's face became guarded. "Why do you ask?"
Rephina took a deep breath. "I would like to enlist. Is there a form..."
"Excuse me?"
"A form. For personal information...?"
" Before that. I didn't hear correctly."
She injected some venom into her smile. "Yes you did," she replied through her teeth. "I'm enlisting. Is there a regulation prohibiting such an action?"
The private blinked, flustered: a sheep out of his pasture. "Not that I know of. But it's never--"
"And what is going on in here, hm?"
"Commander Albatou!" The private bowed as Dilandau, resplendent in brand-new body armor-red, while his old suit had been orange-half-marched, half-waltzed into the room, one lazy hand on the hilt of his sword. Rephina closed her eyes and inhaled sharply, determined to keep her frenetic heart in her ribcage where it belonged. But red suited him. Red suited him so well.
His eyes narrowed as he looked her up and down; she swallowed hard and nearly choked on her own tongue. Gaze still half-lidded, he tilted his head up and frowned. "You're familiar..." he began.
"Miss Jeture is the cousin of a recruit, sir," supplied the private. "And she won't be staying here long."
"How dare you--" Whirling on the boy behind the desk, Rephina slammed both hands and the papers they contained down onto the smooth metal surface, ignoring the way both men's hands tightened automatically around their weapons. Leaning over, she directed her full attention to the clerk. "Now you listen to me, sir, and listen well. Here is my identification. I am eighteen years old, a native-born citizen of the Empire, in full health, and have trained with a sword since I was ten. I have three years of international travel on my record and contacts in King Aston of Asturia's private circle. There is no reason for you to turn down my application for enlistment, especially if no laws preventing women from military involvement exist. Do I make myself clear?" It probably would have been smarter to have toyed with the boy like she had Uncle Paxton, but she couldn't twist anyone's reasoning around until they'd given her reason to twist in the first place. Perhaps merely intimidating him would be enough...but-oh Jeture-how would she come across to Dilandau? Well, at least he'll never figure out I was the stammering girl in the hall...
Swallowing to wet a throat Rephina indulged herself in imagining had gone suddenly dry, the private on desk duty, shook his floppy brown hair out of his face. "You won't make it in the--"
"You, boy. What's your name?" Dilandau interrupted pointedly, arms crossed as he watched the scene with interest. Whirling like a top, the boy stiffened to attention facing the new commander.
"It's Miguel, sir. Miguel La--"
Dilandau's open palm slammed into first Miguel's left cheek, then his right on the backhand, knocking the private to the floor. "So you think you can decide what's good for someone, Miguel?" he nearly crowed with triumph and fury as he watched the boy massage his stinging face. "You think that's your job?"
Flushed scarlet for likely many reasons, Miguel bowed. "No, sir. Forgive me, sir. It will never happ--" His words were cut off again as Dilandau, walking around the desk, grabbed him by the roots of his hair and yanked him to his feet. "If you ever want to see combat, Private, learn your place," he ordered. Was this the same man who'd beheaded an enemy general against direct orders? Rephina didn't understand. "Now go and clean out your bunk." He released the boy.
"You can't mean-Sir--"
Dilandau laughed, lips peeling back in a short grinning bark. "I want you in my unit. We camp elsewhere. But you aren't exempt from this afternoon's exercises; I want to be sure you're worthy."
"Yes, sir! I won't let you down again!" Bowing hastily, Miguel dashed off; dizzily Rephina watched him go, absently glad she was near the desk so she'd have something to lean on.
Sighing almost to himself, Dilandau muttered something that could have been "What a pain..." and, leaning over, began rummaging through the desk drawers. His bowed head was close enough to touch; he was close enough to reach out and grab, to hold close, to confess to...
"Th-thank you," she managed as he handed her a blank enlistment form.
He dismissed her words with a shrug. "You won't last, girl," he added over his shoulder with a casual wave, "but at least you've got nerve."
That couldn't be it. He couldn't save her like that and just...leave. "Lord Dilandau!" Rephina blurted, mind racing and finally fixing on a course of action.
He turned around, one eyebrow twitching a bit. "What?"
She bowed. "Allow me to show my appreciation for your courtesy, sir. It would not be right to let such an act go unrepaid."
"Yeess.." The word spilled off his bottom lip. He was growing impatient with her, for all his apparent laziness.
"Please," Rephina practically begged, "allow me to take you out for refreshment."
Dilandau shrugged again. "I'm not hungry."
"Light repast, then." They were entering the stage of the game she understood: the haggling.
Dilandau rolled his eyes. One graceful gloved finger began to massage his temple slowly, just underneath his golden diadem.
"Well, drinks at least, sir."
The finger moved to his mouth and he gently bit it in contemplation. "I suppose," he said eventually. "At least it's better than drinking alone."
o0o0o0o0o0o0
Yawning and not bothering to hide the fact, Dilandau propped his feet up next to the half-full vino bottle and picked up a dinner knife lying at his place. "All right, girl," he ordered languidly, running his finger over the knife and watching the rippling reflection of the drink in its polished surface, "amuse me."
"Oh, I'd much rather you tell me about yourself, Lord Dilandau," Rephina demurred easily, putting down her empty glass. She had been careful not to pour herself too much vino, but the drink's effects plus her old confidence returning boosted her audacity considerably. "Is it true you've been put in charge of an elite unit by--"
"The emperor himself, yes, yes." He helped himself to more of the beverage. "You're not getting in. Neither is your cousin...unless he impresses me." Dilandau downed his glass in one gulp, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he threw his head back.
Was that what he thought this was about? That she was another Uncle Paxton-another Meiden Fassa-bribing and buttering until she was slippery enough to slide into privileges she hadn't actually earned? Rephina was mortified. "I don't ask for favors, sir, and certainly not while I'm repaying one. I do not expect placement in your unit...does it have a name yet, sir?" 'Dilandau's Unit' was just so dry. An elite task force, Rephina figured, should at least sound impressive; she was certain Kagero would have concurred.
He snorted and clanged his glass down. "Not until I see it."
The word popped into her head and out of her mouth simultaneously. "Dragonslayers."
"Eh?" He'd started to fiddle with the knife again but looked up from his new toy.
"Name it the Dragonslayers." She left off the "sir" in a burst of camaraderie. Weren't people supposed to return your feelings? So if she acted comfortable with him, maybe their conversations would fill memories and not diary pages.
He smiled, but only with half of his face. "Oh, somehow I don't think we'll be dragon hunting...though that would be fun..." He caressed the blade of the knife lightly. "The Zaibach Empire's Dragonslayers...my Dragonslayers...that's not half-bad. How'd you think of that, girl?"
His lilting voice switched from pensive to sharp. Rephina started. "Oh!...Something my cousin said, actually. 'To slay a dragon is to stare down death and win.' Because people's fears draw them...or something..." Ryuon's reasoning seemed paltry and childish viewed in the light shining from those deep red eyes. "It was in reference to your courage, sir."
He made no reply. After reaching for the vino only to discover the bottle was empty, her idol sighed deeply. "How annoying...this turned out to be a boring morning after all. Ah well. This afternoon should be interesting, assuming anyone in this dump has talent. So long, girl." Unfolding himself from his chair, he strolled away, leaving both the bill and Rephina at the table.
She watched his receding back in stunned silence. Other tables' conversations washed over her stupefied brain: jittery couples on their first outing...middle-aged men debating political issues about which neither were well-informed...families trying to placate their whining children...snippets of news from across the empire. Rephina heard it all and processed none. The lost cities of Atlantis could have fallen from the skies around her, and their impact would have registered as mere white noise. The emperor himself could have approached her, and his would have been just another face. Dilandau was gone. In an eyeblink, he had brushed her off and vanished back into the world he knew, the world she now longed to join, for it was his world. He had saved her...and he didn't even know it. She hadn't been given the chance to tell him.
No, that was untrue. She'd been given the chance and squandered it. But there was still time. Rephina pushed to the front of the bar, paid the check, overtipped the waiter, ans rushed out the door. Dilandau hadn't seemed in any great hurry to return despite his apparent apathy to her presence. There was still time...
Dear Dilandau,
I'm sorry if I offended you when we talked earlier; I meant to pay you a compliment but fear I was overly ingratiating. You probably want nothing to do with me right now, but my feelings will not let me be and so I must impose yet again. Lord Dilandau, do not push me away! All I want now is to learn from you-no, to be with you. For that, I have thrown everything else aside.
Please don't let it all be in vain!
O0o0o0o0o0o0
"Boy, open up! Where's your cousin?" Paxton Jetura had never personally visited Ryuon's flat before, but the young man had a pretty good idea as to why his father chose to appear this particular morning.
"Let me guess," he told his father, leaning lazily on the doorframe like a contented puma, blond hair still mussed from his pillows. "She told you about the army thing."
"She attempted to disown me!" Paxton cried, still outraged. Ryuon sighed. And Rephina had returned home yesterday, all smug and confident, claiming it had gone well! What had she done?
"You might as well come in," he answered heavily, backing out of the door and resigning himself to the inevitable. "She's already gone, but I at least want to know what happened."
o0o0o0o0o0o0
The soldiers had been given a morning of leave to "prepare" for their examinations by Commander Albatou that afternoon, so the complex was more or less deserted when Rephina entered. Gatty, it seemed, was the only soldier putting his morning to its intended use; as he jogged laps around the fence he gave Rephina a friendly, if confused, wave, which she wryly returned. Ryuon was using his morning to rest up; Kagero, to work off punishment for staying out too long. What was the guest of honor doing? she wondered. Preparing? How?
"Miss Jetura." She was surprised the private at the front desk knew her name, but on further consideration decided it must have been because of Ryuon. "What do you need today?" His tone was pleasant, the words and meaning anything but. Relax, kid/, she thought. /I swear I won't make a habit of bothering the army. At least, not from this side of that desk.
"Could you point me in the direction of the recruitment office, please?" she asked pleasantly, speaking rather quickly but carefully enunciating each word. I am not nervous. I'm not.
"This is it." The boy's face became guarded. "Why do you ask?"
Rephina took a deep breath. "I would like to enlist. Is there a form..."
"Excuse me?"
"A form. For personal information...?"
" Before that. I didn't hear correctly."
She injected some venom into her smile. "Yes you did," she replied through her teeth. "I'm enlisting. Is there a regulation prohibiting such an action?"
The private blinked, flustered: a sheep out of his pasture. "Not that I know of. But it's never--"
"And what is going on in here, hm?"
"Commander Albatou!" The private bowed as Dilandau, resplendent in brand-new body armor-red, while his old suit had been orange-half-marched, half-waltzed into the room, one lazy hand on the hilt of his sword. Rephina closed her eyes and inhaled sharply, determined to keep her frenetic heart in her ribcage where it belonged. But red suited him. Red suited him so well.
His eyes narrowed as he looked her up and down; she swallowed hard and nearly choked on her own tongue. Gaze still half-lidded, he tilted his head up and frowned. "You're familiar..." he began.
"Miss Jeture is the cousin of a recruit, sir," supplied the private. "And she won't be staying here long."
"How dare you--" Whirling on the boy behind the desk, Rephina slammed both hands and the papers they contained down onto the smooth metal surface, ignoring the way both men's hands tightened automatically around their weapons. Leaning over, she directed her full attention to the clerk. "Now you listen to me, sir, and listen well. Here is my identification. I am eighteen years old, a native-born citizen of the Empire, in full health, and have trained with a sword since I was ten. I have three years of international travel on my record and contacts in King Aston of Asturia's private circle. There is no reason for you to turn down my application for enlistment, especially if no laws preventing women from military involvement exist. Do I make myself clear?" It probably would have been smarter to have toyed with the boy like she had Uncle Paxton, but she couldn't twist anyone's reasoning around until they'd given her reason to twist in the first place. Perhaps merely intimidating him would be enough...but-oh Jeture-how would she come across to Dilandau? Well, at least he'll never figure out I was the stammering girl in the hall...
Swallowing to wet a throat Rephina indulged herself in imagining had gone suddenly dry, the private on desk duty, shook his floppy brown hair out of his face. "You won't make it in the--"
"You, boy. What's your name?" Dilandau interrupted pointedly, arms crossed as he watched the scene with interest. Whirling like a top, the boy stiffened to attention facing the new commander.
"It's Miguel, sir. Miguel La--"
Dilandau's open palm slammed into first Miguel's left cheek, then his right on the backhand, knocking the private to the floor. "So you think you can decide what's good for someone, Miguel?" he nearly crowed with triumph and fury as he watched the boy massage his stinging face. "You think that's your job?"
Flushed scarlet for likely many reasons, Miguel bowed. "No, sir. Forgive me, sir. It will never happ--" His words were cut off again as Dilandau, walking around the desk, grabbed him by the roots of his hair and yanked him to his feet. "If you ever want to see combat, Private, learn your place," he ordered. Was this the same man who'd beheaded an enemy general against direct orders? Rephina didn't understand. "Now go and clean out your bunk." He released the boy.
"You can't mean-Sir--"
Dilandau laughed, lips peeling back in a short grinning bark. "I want you in my unit. We camp elsewhere. But you aren't exempt from this afternoon's exercises; I want to be sure you're worthy."
"Yes, sir! I won't let you down again!" Bowing hastily, Miguel dashed off; dizzily Rephina watched him go, absently glad she was near the desk so she'd have something to lean on.
Sighing almost to himself, Dilandau muttered something that could have been "What a pain..." and, leaning over, began rummaging through the desk drawers. His bowed head was close enough to touch; he was close enough to reach out and grab, to hold close, to confess to...
"Th-thank you," she managed as he handed her a blank enlistment form.
He dismissed her words with a shrug. "You won't last, girl," he added over his shoulder with a casual wave, "but at least you've got nerve."
That couldn't be it. He couldn't save her like that and just...leave. "Lord Dilandau!" Rephina blurted, mind racing and finally fixing on a course of action.
He turned around, one eyebrow twitching a bit. "What?"
She bowed. "Allow me to show my appreciation for your courtesy, sir. It would not be right to let such an act go unrepaid."
"Yeess.." The word spilled off his bottom lip. He was growing impatient with her, for all his apparent laziness.
"Please," Rephina practically begged, "allow me to take you out for refreshment."
Dilandau shrugged again. "I'm not hungry."
"Light repast, then." They were entering the stage of the game she understood: the haggling.
Dilandau rolled his eyes. One graceful gloved finger began to massage his temple slowly, just underneath his golden diadem.
"Well, drinks at least, sir."
The finger moved to his mouth and he gently bit it in contemplation. "I suppose," he said eventually. "At least it's better than drinking alone."
o0o0o0o0o0o0
Yawning and not bothering to hide the fact, Dilandau propped his feet up next to the half-full vino bottle and picked up a dinner knife lying at his place. "All right, girl," he ordered languidly, running his finger over the knife and watching the rippling reflection of the drink in its polished surface, "amuse me."
"Oh, I'd much rather you tell me about yourself, Lord Dilandau," Rephina demurred easily, putting down her empty glass. She had been careful not to pour herself too much vino, but the drink's effects plus her old confidence returning boosted her audacity considerably. "Is it true you've been put in charge of an elite unit by--"
"The emperor himself, yes, yes." He helped himself to more of the beverage. "You're not getting in. Neither is your cousin...unless he impresses me." Dilandau downed his glass in one gulp, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he threw his head back.
Was that what he thought this was about? That she was another Uncle Paxton-another Meiden Fassa-bribing and buttering until she was slippery enough to slide into privileges she hadn't actually earned? Rephina was mortified. "I don't ask for favors, sir, and certainly not while I'm repaying one. I do not expect placement in your unit...does it have a name yet, sir?" 'Dilandau's Unit' was just so dry. An elite task force, Rephina figured, should at least sound impressive; she was certain Kagero would have concurred.
He snorted and clanged his glass down. "Not until I see it."
The word popped into her head and out of her mouth simultaneously. "Dragonslayers."
"Eh?" He'd started to fiddle with the knife again but looked up from his new toy.
"Name it the Dragonslayers." She left off the "sir" in a burst of camaraderie. Weren't people supposed to return your feelings? So if she acted comfortable with him, maybe their conversations would fill memories and not diary pages.
He smiled, but only with half of his face. "Oh, somehow I don't think we'll be dragon hunting...though that would be fun..." He caressed the blade of the knife lightly. "The Zaibach Empire's Dragonslayers...my Dragonslayers...that's not half-bad. How'd you think of that, girl?"
His lilting voice switched from pensive to sharp. Rephina started. "Oh!...Something my cousin said, actually. 'To slay a dragon is to stare down death and win.' Because people's fears draw them...or something..." Ryuon's reasoning seemed paltry and childish viewed in the light shining from those deep red eyes. "It was in reference to your courage, sir."
He made no reply. After reaching for the vino only to discover the bottle was empty, her idol sighed deeply. "How annoying...this turned out to be a boring morning after all. Ah well. This afternoon should be interesting, assuming anyone in this dump has talent. So long, girl." Unfolding himself from his chair, he strolled away, leaving both the bill and Rephina at the table.
She watched his receding back in stunned silence. Other tables' conversations washed over her stupefied brain: jittery couples on their first outing...middle-aged men debating political issues about which neither were well-informed...families trying to placate their whining children...snippets of news from across the empire. Rephina heard it all and processed none. The lost cities of Atlantis could have fallen from the skies around her, and their impact would have registered as mere white noise. The emperor himself could have approached her, and his would have been just another face. Dilandau was gone. In an eyeblink, he had brushed her off and vanished back into the world he knew, the world she now longed to join, for it was his world. He had saved her...and he didn't even know it. She hadn't been given the chance to tell him.
No, that was untrue. She'd been given the chance and squandered it. But there was still time. Rephina pushed to the front of the bar, paid the check, overtipped the waiter, ans rushed out the door. Dilandau hadn't seemed in any great hurry to return despite his apparent apathy to her presence. There was still time...
Dear Dilandau,
I'm sorry if I offended you when we talked earlier; I meant to pay you a compliment but fear I was overly ingratiating. You probably want nothing to do with me right now, but my feelings will not let me be and so I must impose yet again. Lord Dilandau, do not push me away! All I want now is to learn from you-no, to be with you. For that, I have thrown everything else aside.
Please don't let it all be in vain!
O0o0o0o0o0o0
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