{ * vague silhouettes }
even with the amount finn has changed through the years, one thing stays the same: finn loves fighting. maybe he can credit it to growing up in a country constantly at war, or maybe, no matter where he was born, he would have the overwhelming urge to show off his swordplay. he fought for his life in etlia when he was young, then fought for his life in the arenas in podakko after he fled. now, despite most of the continent being thrust into war, matters are not so dire for finn. not yet, anyway.
but there are still fighting contests at the lotus festival this year, and finn would not be himself if he didn't participate at least a little. just one fight, he told asher, and then, once he won, just one more, then i'm on a winning streak, i can't quit now. once he passed a certain threshold, he wanted to see who could best him; if anyone could.
it took a while, actually. several of his challengers failed, until finally, a warrior with muscles insinuating he could snap finn like a twig approached. finn didn't let that intimidate him. after all, the sword is about far more than raw strength. if anything, speed is more important, and finn likes to think he excels in that area.
it was a tough fight, but in the end, finn, already mildly beaten and bruised from a dozen fights prior, was defeated. he still collected a decent amount of gold from his winstreak, so he couldn't complain much.
there are tents not far from the festival's fighting ring, specifically set up for healers to tend to any wounds received in the friendly battles. finn doesn't feel too bad, but he figures it's probably best to get a heal spell, if only so he isn't too sore on the night of the campus's anniversary.
what he doesn't expect to see is a familiar face. he pauses outside the tent at the sight of her. park valora. it seems they keep running into each other, year after year, sweet childhood interactions turned sour thanks to their families ending up on opposite sides of the same war. her father is one of gleerium's most storied generals, after all. finn wonders if he ever thinks about having etlia to thank for that; if he feels sorry to the people that died to earn him that title.
finn's people that died. when he was younger, yet old enough to understand the realities of war, that's all he ever thought of when he saw valora. spoiled little girl, living all peaceful and pretty in her fancy home in the gleerian capital, oblivious to the corpses the lucinier priests failed to bring back to life every single day; the amount of grief caused by her father's hand. she didn't know. she didn't care enough to know. maybe that was the worst part. they fought and went from friends to enemies, and did she ever once pause to really think of the suffering of the etlian people? finn doesn't know.
he still doesn't know, but he doesn't feel the animosity in his heart for her that he once did. it's not a fondness, either, exactly; it's...nothing. not quite apathy, but...neutrality, maybe. it's almost like looking at a stranger, but he doesn't know how. is he really so different now, that after their years of history, he feels so little when he sees her?
he doesn't know that either. it's an odd sensation, but he nods his head to her in greeting. "valora," he says her name, too, then sits down beside her, already seasoned in priests healing him thanks to all of the fights he's been in the past two years, and even before, the trouble he got into as a child.
"nothing serious. just bruises, really, but i want to be able to dance on the final night of the festival without suffering, so," he smiles crookedly. he doesn't know what to say to her. he doesn't know if he should ask her how her father is faring in the war against ganggyn with sincerity or if he should tell her he hopes he dies at the ganggyn's general dani.
he kind of just wants it to be over. he wants to know what peace is like. when etlia fell, and the war of the states was finished, he felt more upheaval in himself than ever before. now, maybe, something in him has settled, but misu and andreas fight against one another, and his people, once again, are caught in the crossfire. he has no choice but to keep fighting.
but who would i be if i wasn't fighting? he looks at valora, still not saying a word to her. who would we be without war? he wonders if they would be better.
– @ufvalora