Work Text:
A western Isle, World of Balance.
Isolation, Setzer reflected, is the emblem of loneliness; whiteness, the emblem of purity; greenery, the emblem of life. At least, these were the projected and combined effects of those three characteristics; and looking around the little isle he beheld the manifestations of a beauty in them that was both gentle and wild. It was a thin stretch of land that extended in a gradual descending movement towards the ocean, a hard terrain of dark rocks shelving a shore of fine white sand upon which the incessant surf broke. From the porous, hard shelf of rock high green hills rolled, coated in nothing but lush, brilliant grass, whose thickness and density attested to the lack of a human disturbance. It was a remote and very lonely place, and its loneliness was accentuated by the distant cries of seagulls that wheeled overhead in the glittering skies of noon.
Sitting comfortably on the sand just below the line of the rocky shelf, the gambler indulged in a listless sort of ennui that derived both an enjoyment from the beautiful day of autumn, and a mild, self-conscious irritation stemming from the fact that he wasn't moving anywhere at the moment. Activity was ingrained into Setzer's blood; it expressed itself in his constant craving for excitement, the consistent need for the stimulation of his mind. Even when he enjoyed physical leisure he needed a constant challenge to stimulate his quick intellect. This is why he took up gambling as a hobby that was almost like a second profession, spicing up his airship travels. The airship, its construction, maintenance and navigation, provided him with both an intellectual and a physical exertion; but gambling provided him with the third kind of venture; the testing of that obscure force known as luck, combined with a clever use of his skill.
He looked towards the hills and observed Terra standing on the grass just above the dark rocks, her red clothes conspicuous on the background of green, her jade-colored hair almost blending into it. He caught a stark glimpse of her white profile for a moment as she looked over her shoulder into the glowing noon sky with an air of contemplation; but then she lowered herself to her heels slowly, sinking into the massive, thick blades of the lush foliage, and her slender form vanished. She halted for a moment, obscured by the tall leaves, but he could see her head moving around slowly, as if seeking something. In his leisurely fashion he wondered to himself of what she might be thinking. Setzer was jaded enough to the world to have acquired the habit of classifying people into types, and they barely afforded him any surprise. But the people into whose company he had lately fallen proved a slightly different sort; and of them, the two women proved particularly perplexing. Celes presented an exterior of hard purity, like an impenetrable wall of ice. In her Setzer could at least distinguish between the fair outside and inner darkness, which he could discern but not penetrate. But Terra presented an entirely different kind of challenge that was even more baffling. The barriers in her were more soft and melting, like an image in a clear lake that blurred into itself; and it was often hard to see beyond that pretty white mask into the shifting shadows of her mind. It might be due, he reflected, to her unusual heritage; but he also sensed a lack of purpose to her pensive manner which puzzled him. It was as if she was trying to feel her way through the world, and needed very little of that exterior stimulation that he craved. As if her sense of purpose, her energy, was derived from her perception of the world. He sensed that there was something in her contemplative approach utterly different than his own mental energies, and the fact that he could not comprehend it disturbed him sometimes.
And then, there was the secret connection between the two women. He discerned it, but couldn't quite grasp its true significance. A mutual predicament? The fact that one derived existence from the death of the other's life source? Whatever it was, it existed, unspoken but almost tangible. He wondered if anyone else sensed it.
Setzer was a practical man, and he disliked the surrealistic trend of these thoughts, and the sense of failure he derived from them. It was a rare occasion that he failed to understand something that he observed. Rising to his feet, he looked directly towards the area where Terra sat, and was afforded a slightly clearer view of her figure. She turned her face towards the horizon, and once again he glimpsed the pure yet melting white profile. Then she rose to her feet. She was so little, almost like a child. But he wanted a clearer vision of her.
"Terra," he called, but she apparently didn't hear him, because she made no response. Absorbed in her own world, probably. Almost impulsively and without thought, he began to move forwards; but before he could as much make one step, a figure came to stand before the thin boundary of the dark rock shelf and the white sand, partially obstructing his vision of the green hills. He immediately recognized Celes.
She was standing on the somewhat higher shelf. Setzer turned a little in his careless, leisurely fashion, eyeing her askance.
"What are you doing?" she asked; an inconsequential question, but it acquired an immediate meaning as she followed his line of vision with her eyes, until they met Terra's figure. They snapped back towards the gambler, fixing them on his face with a steady gaze. Something distorted a little within Setzer's line of vision, and he sensed an immediate tension springing up between them.
"What's the matter?" he asked, trying to maintain a light tone. He lowered himself into the white bed of sand again. He kept a little ironic smile as a defense against her probing gray eyes, and his long fingers played with the edges of his dark leather coat. From his low position the green hills were almost lost to his view, and Celes' figure blocked them completely.
Celes remained silent, and Setzer spoke again, his voice acquiring the dry drawl he always used as defense against any kind of deeper feeling. "What's the matter, Celes?" He looked up at her, and tapped with his fingers on the sand besides him invitingly. "Did you come to join me, or ought I come to you?"
"Stay where you are," she replied at last. It was more than a statement; it was a warning. He merely shook his head, however, and rose to his feet.
"I'm guessing that you came to call Terra back to the airship," he remarked. This was her mission in a simplistic sense; but the moment she approached him and perceived his thoughts— almost too quickly— everything altered, shifting to a slightly different realm. Setzer knew that they both understood it, and he experienced a sense of unease, of having intruded upon something beyond his control.
She didn't reply for a moment, and the silence was, to his feelings, strained; then she nodded slightly, her eyes still fixed on his face. "I was also wondering where you disappeared to."
Setzer spread his hands wide, still smiling. "I'm right here." He knew what she was thinking, and decided there no use in pretending. "Just wondering about her," he said lightly, raising his arm and pointing in the general direction where Terra was supposed to be; she was completely lost from his view by now. Celes made no reply, and he continued, keeping his voice light:
"Pretty little thing, Terra is, but sometimes strange, don't you think?"
Celes looked over her shoulder for a moment, and he could glimpse her profile, its lines hard and pure. Then, looking back, she said, "I know you, Setzer."
He wished he could have retorted as much. "Do you?" he asked very quietly, keeping his ironic tones.
Celes' face was the mask of a sphinx. "Yes."
His smile did not waver. "Well, you don't." Trying to dissipate the tension again, he said, "You didn't really think I was having... thoughts about little Terra. Did you?"
"You had thoughts about me," she said.
Setzer tried to laugh, but he found it harder to laugh than he ever did in his life. He felt as if he stumbled upon some invisible trap, a secret connection between the two women in which he was unwarily caught. While sensing it was not his fault, he wondered if he could untangle himself unscathed. He sensed it might require all his mental powers and his reliance on luck to do so.
"Come now, Celes," he said, keeping his tone easy, and he extended his hand towards her. "You can trust me by now, even if we ARE newly acquainted. I promise you I'm more trustworthy than this."
Celes' eyes were fixed on his face, and he waited. She seemed to consider him. Then, the indefinite boundary melted into the shadows, and her face seemed to relax a little.
"We really ought to move along," she said at last. "We've lingered here long enough."
Setzer sensed the crisis has passed; but, testing it, he asked lightly: "Can I call Terra?"
She didn't reply, and turned around. Then she said over her shoulder: "Call her, and let's go back."
Setzer watched her retreating figure; then, taking long strides, he walked up the hill towards Terra. She was sitting inside the high grass, her head lowered. Standing above her, he could see her hair tumbling down across her cheeks, but her face was concealed.
"Terra," he said, "we need to go back to the airship."
Terra was silent. Setzer waited, gazing at the slight form of the young woman. Despite her red clothes, she seemed to be a part of the scenery for a moment; not blending into it this time, but within it; and in her he could see the isolation and purity and life that was this island. Maybe this is what he had perceived; that she could make herself a part of the life around her, not, like him, detached and observing.
"Terra," he repeated, wishing she would look up and acknowledge his presence; but she didn't reply, and suddenly she shook her head. "It's so sad," she said.
He stared at her for a moment. Then he bent down towards her. "What is?" he asked. He thought that perhaps her answer would give him a clearer perception of the way she saw things; he almost wished that the revelation would happen.
But she only shook her head, her face turned to the green earth, and murmured without replying:
"It's so sad, so sad, so sad."
Setzer looked upwards into the glowing skies of autumn that embraced the horizon like an empty dome. The island is a vacuum of loneliness, he thought, inside the wide green seas. And he said:
"You might be right."
Written by Hadas Rose
Final Fantasy VI belongs to Square.
Warning: comments are almost as long as the story. Contain exposition of themes etc. and how I totally overdid the symbolism.
The inspiration for this quaint story was a stage late in the World of Balance story arc, when I was cruising with the airship and landed it on a little isle (one of several) off one of the continents. It was one of those isolated little moments that I recalled, because I thought that maybe I could find something very special on one of those islands. The language in the story will attest to the vision I had of some moments in the game— I perceived some things as very ethereal, almost mystical. All my imagination, I know, but that's how strongly this game inspired me.
In fact, however, this story grew out of a need of mine to write yet another symbolic story with fluid, imagery-rich prose, meeting-of-monsters series style. The story is in consequence too symbolic for its own good, in such a heavy-handed way that anyone familiar with literary criticism would recognize the manipulation of the story's aspects into an artificial structure. The symbolism/parallel figures in the other MoM stories was at least somewhat covert and simple, and served the themes of the stories well enough. But in "Green Seas", everything is intertwined to some greater, seemingly obscure yet simplistic meaning which is revealed very bluntly at its end.
To lay the story's structure clear:
Setzer is the man of social reality and conditioning who became detached from "true" feelings. He converts them into superficial social norms. He is also a man of thinking, of detached, rational intellect.
In contrast to Setzer, Terra is a creature of feeling who is at one with the world, the life of the soul, closer to nature, childlike and innocent. She is a return to the origins devoid of social conditioning. Part of this is linked, of course, to Terra's being half Esper, "Phantom Beast", which represents a wild, untamed side.
Celes is the most muddled figure in this mess. I thought of her as a kind of a barrier, probably emotional. She had been scarred by social conditioning (being used as a weapon by the Empire, and probably genetically created); while Setzer converted his emotions to something superficial, she buried and repressed her deep feelings and turned them into something dark and harsh.
The terrain reflects the characters' position, or their version of life. Setzer sits on the low, flat, comfortable, yet colorless sand; Terra immerses herself in the vibrant, green, high-reaching hills; while Celes stands on the black rocky border between these two terrains. She is the representative of the barrier existing between them. (Social scarring produces repression of feelings etc.)
Setzer, the scholar and scientist, seeks to observe and understand Terra and her way of seeing the world, but Celes seeks to stop him from gaining that knowledge. This is because Celes perceives Terra as a pure version of herself— the natural, non-artificial, innocent and uncorrupted girl. Hence the "link" Setzer senses between them. And while Setzer is "aware" of this level of interaction with Celes, he brushes her aside with easy words, as usual to his fashion of social interaction. He denies himself the need of dealing with someone like Celes, and thus the reader must ask himself whether Setzer, having gone the easy way without seeking deeper (trying to actually understand someone like Celes, instead of just pacifying her to skip this stage and get straight to Terra), was fully equipped to understand what Terra had to offer, or whether he just sees her the way that he wanted to see her. (He never sees Terra's face in the end).
On a more literal level, of course, Celes simply doesn't like Setzer paying attention to Terra. She is afraid that his superficial version of attention/emotional involvement will scar the fragile Terra. Therefore, she detains and questions him, etc. This is what the entire story is about on a facial level, which is the chief reason it doesn't work very well. Stories should have a substantial "literal" plot first, and the symbolism or whatever device is used serves to enhance and comment on the plot itself. But in this story, the symbolic structure "was" the plot, with very little to reflect upon. Rather, the literal plot (Celes questioning Setzer's interest in Terra) is delegated to a subservient position, reflecting upon the symbolic structure. So Setzer is 'having thoughts' about Terra because he wishes to interpret her way of life according to his own vision, something which is akin to emotional rape (a "logical" rape of something that is natural and inexplicable.)
I never considered "Green Seas" a successful story. It was the adopted child of the Meeting of Monsters series (an unsuccessful emulation that never quite becomes the real thing), in a somewhat similar fashion to the way that "Twilight Zone" is the series' stepchild (only related nominally, an uneasy, artificial connection) and "Sabin and Keyla" (which I did not post since it contains someone else's original character) is its secret bastard child (related to it although not by name). All right, I overdid the metaphor, but you get it.
As noted above, it's simply that there wasn't much of a 'literal' story here, and the focus was the symbolic level, to an almost ridiculous degree. People who know nothing about such things will simply be confused, while people who do will perceive its heavy-handedness at once. So the story fails on two levels— it fails to be a good story, and it fails to be a well-done symbolic story. (A concept I've grown suspicious of anyway; symbolism can be such a hokey device to lay claim that almost any kind of story is 'deep'.)
That said, though, I thought the imagery wasn't bad, and served to convey some of my nostalgia about FFVI's atmosphere pretty well.