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Sun, Mar. 20th, 2005, 10:04 am
pseudosex: From the log of Freya Crescent:

Dear Log,

The dinner has come and gone since the last time I wrote. In fact, an entire day has passed. I think I needed the full time in order to sort out my thoughts.

Beatrix met me outside of our temporary home just before dinner was to take place, but we chose not to speak as we made our way to the small, comfortable café. Of course, the Head of the Council had been there for quite some time and already eaten, but he invited us to have a brief meal before business. We also ate in silence, myself feeling quite uncomfortable, and Beatrix feeling. . .well, I can only imagine.

The small bit of talk made was when Steiner, who had come in fashionably late and looking beat up from a fall off a ladder, complimented my choice of attire. I shrugged and glanced down at a rather ugly blue dress, knowing he didn't give two shakes of Zidane's tail what I'd worn. His mind was so preoccupied with Beatrix that he'd probably had to rethink the statement many times to avoid blurting, "Freya, your night looks very good for dressing" or "Could you please pass me the table?"

As much as I love Steiner, you know I'm right.

After a wonderful meal of local flavor -- Steiner's second failed attempt at conversation for the night was saying Beatrix surely hadn't cooked it, for which I stepped on his boot -- business was curt and serious. The Head of the Council asked the two men that had entered half-way through our meals what their viewpoints on the rebuilding were.

I had seen them both. The first, a short, human man in charge of the repair of Burmecia's social structure, spoke in professional vocabulary: "The poeple are tense. Pardon my frankness, but the incident involving General Beatrix has shown us so. Obviously the Burmecians need something reassuring right now, and. . ." He glanced about nervously, and I felt my stomach twist. I knew what he meant, and so did the Head of Council. I hate to say that I could feel him getting more smug by the second, but. . .

I hoped the other man, a Burmecian in charge of the physical reconstruction, would be sympathetic. Something told me he would see the side of the Head, even before he did. "Well, the place is trashed, we know that. Ain't much chance of getting it back to the way it was before without a lot of money and a lot of high-profile backing. The Knights have been a huge help, but it'd be a lot better if we had more of a workforce, too." That was all he had to say, apparently, because he sat down.

The dread on Steiner's, Beatrix's, and I am sure my own face was obvious, but that did nothing to affect the initial decision, I could tell. The Head of the Council stood and dabbed at the edges of his mouth, letting us know he was ready to end these meetings. "More funding is needed for the completion of Burmecia's reconstruction, and outside assistance will surely be vital soon. Due to this, I am making an official order. In two days' time at precisely eight in the morning, a chocobo cart will be outside the city."

His head turned toward me and I knew he reveled in the news he gave me. "At that time, Freya, your relocation to the city of Treno will begin."

The next few moments were a mass of confusion in my head, so I hope that Beatrix will give you a more accurate report of what else may have been said before she and Steiner left. Come to think of it, they also may have been relocated. At that point, I stood up and once again let go of my restraint. "She'll be ripped apart if I have to leave her alone here," I shouted, "and you know it!"

He showed no emotion. "You may leave now, Miss Crescent."

I once again tried to change his mind, but he only frowned dangerously before saying, "You. Will. Leave now. Miss Crescent." I stormed out in a rage and spent the night wandering the town, refusing to return to the Inn until very early this morning. No one talked to me, nor seemed to acknowledge my presence; the statement must have gone public after out meeting.

Since awakening, most of my day has been spent packing for tomorrow's trip. Although I fully object to leaving, I suppose I should at least be prepared for it as well as I can be. I hope to have a private dinner with Beatrix tonight if Steiner has not reserved her company.

In either case, it has occured to me that perhaps I can find Amarant in Treno and I may not be as lonely.


End log thirteen.