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Bloody Symphony
Prologue
A Tales of Vesperia, Abyss and Symphonia cross over fiction.

He was sleeping. At least... he hoped he was sleeping. If he was not, then this situation would be rather distressing – not to mention extremely disturbing.

He was in a room, a white room – pale to the point of being near-blinding – so seamless in design that he couldn’t tell where the walls stopped and the floor began. There was a floor, right? Yes... yes there was, his stamping boot-covered foot confirming aforementioned fact as it came into contact a couple times with the hard, unyielding ground. Oh good, solid ground... he liked nice, solid ground. Much better then brittle ground. Everything was quiet, still... Nothing moved except himself, nothing could be heard except for his own breathing, his own heartbeat, his own dull steps that thundered across the unknown distance of this place. His clothes – oh good, it wasn’t one of those dreams where he was in front of a big group of people in nothing other than whatever dignity he could pull together – were much different than they usually were... still dark in colouring, but with reds mixed into the picture, the design looking vaguely militia... Just vaguely, though.

An eerie effeminate voice sung across the white, breaking the silence and making him pause in his paces, golden flecks filling the area around him as he listened. The voice seemed to come from all around, bouncing off the walls, growing louder and more mournful with each passing moment. The melody was so sad, so heart wrenching... it spoke of a longing of a lost love that could never be returned across the gap of space, time – the chasm that separates the living from the dead. Who was this voice calling out for? He knew it was not him, though he wondered if there was someone out there that would sing so deeply in yearning for him....

As suddenly as the voice had begun, it stopped, cut off mid-verse by the sounds of a struggle that he knew so well. Sword clashed against sword, ringing louder than the voice had resonated, and he turned, the sound coming from behind his confused form.

Two men were locked together in combat, steel against steel, one fighting for their life while the other fought for mere sport. A terrified grimace against a sadistic sneer... It was awful to watch, and he wished to act upon what he was seeing, wanted to help the first by attacking the second with the sword he knew was strapped to his belt... but he was rooted to the spot. Something held him there, a force that wished for him to observe and nothing more.

So observe he did.

The two figures danced the dance of death, the first coming closer to his demise with every attack countered, every side-stepped lunge. The first man, the fire haired warrior, he knew he was going to die – but even so, he fought his very hardest.

The inevitable finally happened. The second figure got tired of his game, disarming the man with a single blow, the sword flying away from the two and landing at the observer’s feet with a clang. The second grinned at the first’s horror, kicking the man in the stomach to double him over, forcing the man to his knees with a crippling blow to the back of his legs. The first stayed down, panting, sweat and blood and tears running down his face, as he looked up not at his attacker, but over at the observer.

Said observer looked on in horror as the second walked behind the man upon the ground, lifting his sword up high, the streaks of blood on his body not his own. The second relished the moment, eyes mad with bloodlust, before thrusting downwards towards the exposed back of his opponent.

“NO!” the observer cried, released from the prison of the his body the moment the second’s sword entered the first’s chest, cutting through flesh and bone, piercing his lung and nicking his heart, the silver tip poking out the other side before it was ripped cruelly from his body, the sword dripping with the first’s lifeblood. The observer was running, towards the man dying on his knees, falling to the ground before him and wrapping his arms about his shoulders, supporting. “No no no, don’t die! You can’t die! Not like this, never like this – I’m suppose to go before you!” the Observer was hurriedly explaining, trying to stop the flow of blood from the first’s gaping, gasping wound upon his back even as the one on the first’s front was soaking the Observer’s tabard through.

“Don’t... cry,” the first was muttering, breathlessly, demanding as always, his voice ever so soft, lips flecked with blood and face drained of colour. The Observer could hear the man’s heartbeat speeding up, the muscle trying its best to keep the man alive.

Lubb-Dupp... Lubb-Dupp.. Lubb-Dupp. Lubb-Dupp-Lubb-DuppLubbDuppLubbDupp-





-KNOCKNOCKNOCKKNOCKKNOCK-

Yuri Lowell jumped awake with a heavy intake of breath, pushing himself into an upright position, the dream at the forefront of his thoughts – it was a dream. Just a dream. That same dream. The man had been having this exact nightmare on and off for the last couple weeks, and it was disconcerting each and every time. The fighting men, he knew he had never met them before, even though they had seemed so familiar... at least the one being attacked, he felt as if he should definitely know who he was...

-KNOCKKNOCK. “Yuri Lowell! Open this door right this instant!”

The man pushed his covers off of him with a great sigh, wiping sweat from his brow as he walked towards the door of his small living area in nothing more than his sleeping pants, his dark hair a touch unruly. Who the hell was knocking on his door at such an early time of the morning? And why the hell were they so insistent on seeing him? Uhhhg, probably served him right for coming back to Zaphias... Pushing open the door while brushing the sleep from his eyes, Yuri looked upon the proud form of Sodia, Flynn’s personal assistant and Yuri’s very own pain-in-the-a**.

“What?” Yuri’s tone was short, angry. She had woken him up at some ungodly hour before the sun was even up, and he had even had that dream again, which wasn’t Sodia’s fault, sure, but Yuri had to blame someone... thus he was not in the best of moods – though, he rarely was when Sodia was involved. At least he hadn’t sworn at her yet... but that was sure to follow, and she would be sure to threaten him in response.

The woman looked livid, her pinched face red and her eyebrows drawn together in a scowl. Really, it was a face that Yuri had gotten used to seeing, and he had to wonder vaguely to himself why he had ever come back to Zaphias – oh right, the Lower Quarter. Flynn had sent him an urgent message about something going on in the Lower Quarter that Flynn would need his help with... whatever that had meant. Yuri, having a soft spot for the place he had grown up, had arrived late the evening before. Nothing had seemed amiss, so he had to question if Flynn had lied to him just to get him back into town – ooh, if he had? Yuri would have to teach that sneaky Flynn a lesson, even if he was the Commandant now.

Right, back to the present. Sodia was gearing up for a giant yelling-at, it seemed like, so Yuri rolled his eyes left his door wide open as he began to pull on his normal set of clothes, to the fury of Sodia, he saw quite happily out of the corner of his eye.

“What have you done to him?!” she demanded finally, taking a few steps into the room and slamming the door behind her, her armour clanging against itself and the floor rather noisily. Yuri hoped that this wasn’t going to disturb the others in the Inn, but with the feisty Knight involved, that hope was nothing more than a pipe-dream. “Whatever you’ve done, you better march right into his office and apologize to him, then pay for whatever crimes you’ve committed, or I swear, I will-“

Yuri paused in tying his sash to his waist for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stared at Sodia. “Hold up – what have I done now? I’ve been crime-free for more then three months, at the very least, so nothing new should be bothering Flynn-“

“It’s Commandant Schifo to you, criminal scum!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. But all fun aside, what have I done recently to piss him off?”

“I don’t know, but whatever you’ve been doing has caused the Commandant great mental distress – he has been eating the bare minimum at meals, and when he sleeps, his dreams are filled with night vissions! Whatever you’ve done, it’s affecting his functions to the point of not being able to do his duties properly!”

Yuri rolled his eyes, doubting very much his friend had fallen to such a level. Sodia was usually fabricating horrible situations that her presious Commandant was in, freaking out over the blonde Knight whenever anything minor happened to him, so Yuri guessed that this was what this was all about – then a sudden thought hit him... “Wait. Did you forge that message from Flynn to get me to come here?”

“Would you have come any other way?” She had him there.

“No... I suppose not... Well. Since I’m here already, I might as well go pay the guy a visit...” Eyeing the pants he had yet to change for his everyday pair, he gazed over at Sodia who seemed rather intent on following him until he was within Flynn’s office and leaving him no sooner. “Now, can you give me a second so I can change my pants?” A chestier cat grin spread across his face. “Unless you want to help, of course...”

A disgusted sound escaped Sodia’s throat as she stormed out the door, a yelled promise – or was it a threat? – filling the air within Yuri’s little apartment as the walls vibrated with the force of the slammed door. “I’ll be waiting outside, Criminal!”

Chuckling, Yuri finished dressing, grabbing his sword and the forged note before he stepped towards the window with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Let her wait – Yuri would go ahead and frustrate her even more. Jumping near-silently from his window to the street below, his eyes looking towards the castle and where his life-long buddy was holed up. Yuri breathed in a breath of fresh, morning air before beginning the long hike towards the centre of the city.

Ahh, to tell the truth, it really was good to be home...





Elsewhere, as Yuri was rudely awoken from his nightmare, Flynn was jerked awake from his own troubled dream, coughing violently as the feel of blood clogging his lungs still stuck with him even as he escaped the confines of his awful dream. He took a few winded, gasping breaths, trying to calm his whirling mind. He had been having this dream for weeks... months even, and he had hated every moment of it. Why was it happening? Why did he dream of this attacker, this observer, and himself – dying on his knees? He had never seen the two in his dream before, never seen anyone that looked vaguely like these two... and yet, he still dreamed of them every few nights, interrupting his precious sleeping hours with their violence. The one that ran at him after the attacker was done with him... the one in dark clothes and long hair, he always looked so sad as he looked down on the dream-Flynn, and as Flynn lay dying in the mans grip, he always spoke the same words.

Don’t cry.

Even though it was always Flynn who was the one that was crying. Throwing his legs over the edge of the bed, he captured his head in his hands as he wiped away the tears that had leaked from his eyes during the course of the dream. He rubbed the back of his neck, easing the muscles to try and ease the upcoming headache that would no doubt plague him throughout the rest of the day.

Flynn’s dejected gaze looked towards the open window – ah, predawn. It was late enough that a Knight of his stature could be awake and moving about, getting ready for the day ahead of him, and late enough for it not to look too suspicious to his underlings. Though... he had the feeling that his trusted assistant, Knight Sodia, had caught on to his dour moods over the past little while... she had offered to take on more work then she usually had, and Flynn had to be rather firm with her that he was just fine, nothing to worry about here.

Pulling himself into a standing position, stretching his aching muscles, Flynn pulled on his normal Knightly attire, walking a few doors down to come to his office and the stack of documents that he would have to look through for the approval of His Majesty before he checked on how the new recruits training was coming along.

The man sighed. Just another boring day in the castle...




I had an idea.... and it wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. XD So yeah, this is a Tales of Symphonia, Abyss and Vesperia crossover, multi-chaptered whenever I get around to it. The crossover will be more predominant later ooon, but for now... just trust me. It totally is. XD

Uhhhg. Kay. Getting something to eat. XD