Categories > Games > Tales of Symphonia > Tin Soldiers
I started off this challenge with something simple, just a bit of a warmup before I really got into the various ideas I had. The theme for this first fic is Family, and I have to admit to dipping into another fandom a bit for the family situation here. Internet cookies for the first person to recognize it.
I do not own anything related to Symphonia.
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"Do you have a family, Private?"
The question caught him off guard, triggered a flood of childhood memories.
"It's your fault. It's always your fault! I hate you!" his half-brother screamed at him, "All because of you, no one likes any of us! I wish you would just die!" I could only watch in tears as Gene stomped off, for I knew it was true.
It was later, sometime the next day. "Look, I'm sorry, Joe, I didn't mean that. It's just...it's hard sometimes, on all of us. But you're still my little brother, and I'll keep protecting you, okay? Even though no one else wants you around, you're the only brother I have, so I'd better do a good job, right? I'm sorry." Don't be, Gene. You were right the first time, I would have been better off dead than living there, with that so-called family.
His stepmother looked down at him with pain-filled eyes, forever reminded of her husband's mistress by his presence. "Go run and play with your brother or something, Joe, I'm busy." She was always too busy, for me, but somehow managed to make time to play with Gene.
His father's voice rang out, across the dinner table, "Matilda, don't you think it's about time we put that runt to work somewhere? We could ship him off to be a caravan guard, or maybe put him in the Palmacosta militia, they could always use more cannon fodder." They wrote letters, but no one ever wanted me. No one trusted a half-elf not to turn on them.
As he was climbing out his window, his belongings and supplies firmly on his back, Gene walked into his bedroom. They stared at each other for a long moment; then, Gene simply said, "Thanks, bro. Take care of yourself, okay?" We both knew it was a laugh. A child my age couldn't survive in the wilds, and a half-elf my size would never make it on the streets. But anything was better than staying there, and I was too angry at the world to be cautious. Gene was the only one who didn't hate me, and even he didn't care enough to keep me safe, in the end.
He'd been lucky the Renegades found him before the Desians did, or else he'd still be a slave to hatred. But the people who took him in and cared for him, who taught him to defend himself, they said humans weren't evil by nature, and he wanted to impress them, so he tried to believe it. He learned not to hate, learned to be respectful to the humans in their ranks. The Renegades were the only ones who ever tried to teach him anything important, the only ones who had ever seen him as being worthwhile.
He shook himself out of his reverie. "No, Lord Botta," he said, "The Renegades are my only family."
I do not own anything related to Symphonia.
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"Do you have a family, Private?"
The question caught him off guard, triggered a flood of childhood memories.
"It's your fault. It's always your fault! I hate you!" his half-brother screamed at him, "All because of you, no one likes any of us! I wish you would just die!" I could only watch in tears as Gene stomped off, for I knew it was true.
It was later, sometime the next day. "Look, I'm sorry, Joe, I didn't mean that. It's just...it's hard sometimes, on all of us. But you're still my little brother, and I'll keep protecting you, okay? Even though no one else wants you around, you're the only brother I have, so I'd better do a good job, right? I'm sorry." Don't be, Gene. You were right the first time, I would have been better off dead than living there, with that so-called family.
His stepmother looked down at him with pain-filled eyes, forever reminded of her husband's mistress by his presence. "Go run and play with your brother or something, Joe, I'm busy." She was always too busy, for me, but somehow managed to make time to play with Gene.
His father's voice rang out, across the dinner table, "Matilda, don't you think it's about time we put that runt to work somewhere? We could ship him off to be a caravan guard, or maybe put him in the Palmacosta militia, they could always use more cannon fodder." They wrote letters, but no one ever wanted me. No one trusted a half-elf not to turn on them.
As he was climbing out his window, his belongings and supplies firmly on his back, Gene walked into his bedroom. They stared at each other for a long moment; then, Gene simply said, "Thanks, bro. Take care of yourself, okay?" We both knew it was a laugh. A child my age couldn't survive in the wilds, and a half-elf my size would never make it on the streets. But anything was better than staying there, and I was too angry at the world to be cautious. Gene was the only one who didn't hate me, and even he didn't care enough to keep me safe, in the end.
He'd been lucky the Renegades found him before the Desians did, or else he'd still be a slave to hatred. But the people who took him in and cared for him, who taught him to defend himself, they said humans weren't evil by nature, and he wanted to impress them, so he tried to believe it. He learned not to hate, learned to be respectful to the humans in their ranks. The Renegades were the only ones who ever tried to teach him anything important, the only ones who had ever seen him as being worthwhile.
He shook himself out of his reverie. "No, Lord Botta," he said, "The Renegades are my only family."
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