retrospect [1/1]
keep running; don't look back. [rikku, auron]
final fantasy x; drama/gen; pg; 1700 words
They rest on the stairwell just outside the Farplane's ethereal pulse, waiting for the others to return. Rikku sits on the old stone wall and swings her legs, humming some tuneless melody and purposely avoiding his gaze.
"You're wise for your age," says the man in red. His face is hidden beneath his cowl and his dark glasses and layer upon layer of practiced apathy, but there is mocking tone to his voice that sets her teeth on edge.
"What do you mean?" she asks, hesitant. He frightens her a little, with that unnerving stare she rarely sees (but she senses it, yes, when the back of her neck starts to prickle in warning). Just a glance from him and she feels so young and inadequate, a mere burden to be shouldered by her companions. He makes her feel like a child, and she hates herself a little because of it.
"There are people in this world who dwell solely in memories," he says sagely. "They refuse to live in the here and now. But you are above this, it seems."
She purses her lips. "Are you making fun of me, old man?"
Auron simply chuckles. "Of course not. But you can't run from the past forever, you know. There comes a time when one must confront their memories. And sometimes memories are all we have left."
There is a pyrefly flickering around him, its yellow-orange glow reflected in the dark tint of his glasses, and she wonders where it came from, this pyrefly.
And when she looks closer he seems somehow indistinct, his edges blurring and fading into the background, as if he's not really there at all.
--
Her feet skim lightly across the hot sand. There are sunbeams beating down on the back of her neck and arid wind whipping at her face and her mouth is gritty and dry but she's smiling all the same as she runs, runs, runs over the dunes with no destination in mind. She doesn't run because she wants to, exactly, or even because she has to - she runs because she's an Al Bhed and that's what she's been taught.
( Keep running, Rikku. Don't look back. Be proud of who you are, but keep running all the same. )
And even at eight years old she sees the hypocrisy in this but says nothing, because she loves the feeling she gets as she runs, the freedom of the desert beneath the soles of her sun-bronzed feet.
"Rikku!" A shout echoes across the sand, shattering the small nirvana she's created. She turns to the faraway figure on the dunes and raises a hand in acknowledgment. Only for a moment, though, and then she's sprinting off again.
( Keep running. Don't stop now. )
"Rikku!" Gippal shouts, and she can almost see him rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Lusa pylg! Cid dumt sa du pnehk oui Rusa! … Fryd yna oui ajah tuehk uid rana?"
But his words are lost on the wind, torn away by a sudden, violent gust. The sand rises up and dances on the air currents, blown about like a wisp of cloud, before finally settling back down to earth. When she opens her eyes the whole landscape looks altered, like a labyrinth with ever-changing walls.
Rikku keeps running.
--
Home is burning to the ground.
Great plumes of acrid black smoke scar the clear blue desert sky. Brilliant flame and the sound of battle roar all around them as they run frantically through the twisting metal corridors, seeking a way out. This fight was over before it began. Now, there is only escape.
To Rikku, the alarm blaring from the loudspeakers sounds so very far away. Her legs are propelling her forward unconsciously, like Machina, and she hardly feels the smoldering embers that occasionally shower her skin.
… No. That's not right. Rikku feels the searing pain. She just doesn't care. Nothing matters anymore. Her world has been shaken, turned upside down, shattered into a thousand shards of hopelessness by this single act of violence, and now she's running away again like she's always been taught and it feels so wrong.
And later on the ship, she smiles at Yuna and says, "I'm fine. Really I am," when truly all she wants to do is scream, because everything's gone and no one seems to want to face the truth. Her father looks just as like always does, without the slightest hint of sadness or doubt in his eyes.
She's not sure why she goes to him of all people. He still frightens her a bit, and he's not exactly the comforting type, but she reckons that none of the others would understand.
"It's like I said," she whispers, and leans her head against the cool metal of the airship. "'Memories are nice, but that's all they are.' So why does it hurt so much?"
He's given her the courtesy of removing those dark glasses, and his good eye slides toward her.
"You expect me to answer that?" he asks, as calm and collected as ever. "That's a question you should ask yourself, Rikku."
She ponders this for a moment, and then promptly bursts into tears. This is not lovely, composed crying, no, this is sobbing until it's hard to breathe. These are not prim, delicate tears, no, these are the kind that gather in the corners of your eyes and cascade down your cheeks, leaving slick, salty trails in their wake.
"I-I'm crying b-because that was th-the first time you've ever called me by my name," she hiccups, and clutches at his arm. "Th-that's why."
Auron reaches over and pats her on the head like one might pet a puppy, and she almost laughs at his attempt at consoling.
He's not buying it, but that doesn't mean they can't pretend.
--
Running is all in the breath, you see. Learn to control your breathing, to set a rhythm and stay with it, and your endurance and speed increase tenfold.
Somewhere far behind, Gippal has given up trying to beat her. He's not fast enough, that much is obvious, and he's far too laid-back to care about winning, but she still feels that same sense of satisfaction as she crosses the makeshift finish line.
She may only be ten years old, stick-thin with legs like twigs, but no one can catch Rikku.
( Keep running forward. Why bother with the past when the future is right there in front of you? Run, Rikku. Seize it. The world is yours for the taking. )
Gippal drags himself across the finish line, panting heavily and wiping sweat from his brow. "How… how the hell do you do that?" he asks breathlessly, doubled over with his hands on his knees. "Nobody should be able to run that fast! Tysh…"
Rikku just grins.
Sasuneac yna hela, pid dryd'c ymm drao yna.
--
Yuna pauses in the midst of her dance, mismatched eyes wide and scared.
"It's alright," says the man in red. "It's been long enough." The pyreflies flicker around him, casting their soft glow against his battle-scarred face, and there is something in his expression that seems almost grateful. His gaze meets hers, but only for a second, and then he looks away, hefting his blade over his shoulder.
In this moment her eyes are prickling with hot tears, and she wants nothing more than to scream and cry and beg him to stay. But she knows, somewhere deep down in her heart, that it is futile. He doesn't belong here anymore.
"This is your world now."
--
Rikku watches the sun set over the desert, appreciating the blood orange shade of the horizon and the long, hazy shadows that stretch their fingers across the sand. She sits on a ruined metal wall, one of the few remainders of Home, and swings her legs.
"Hey, old man," she says to the silence, feeling more than a little foolish. "You were right about asking myself. And about the whole 'memory' thing. And, well… You were right about most stuff, it seems. Too bad you're not still around, or else I'd thank you properly. I mean, I could just visit the Farplane, but somehow I doubt you'd come when I called you. You're kind of a bastard like that, you know? … Anyways. Thank you. For being there and listening to me when I needed it. For… for everything, really. I don't think you gave yourself much credit, but you were damn good at giving advice."
Rikku stops herself there and shakes her head, wondering if perhaps she's going insane. She's acting as if he can hear her. She leaps down from the wall of rubble, landing gracefully on her feet, and stretches out her back with a groan. The remains of Home are scattered all around her - charred objects half buried in the sand, looming skeletons of buildings that had once stood tall and proud.
Rikku turns and looks her memories straight in the eye.
Today's the day she finally stops running.
final fantasy x; drama/gen; pg; 1700 words
They rest on the stairwell just outside the Farplane's ethereal pulse, waiting for the others to return. Rikku sits on the old stone wall and swings her legs, humming some tuneless melody and purposely avoiding his gaze.
"You're wise for your age," says the man in red. His face is hidden beneath his cowl and his dark glasses and layer upon layer of practiced apathy, but there is mocking tone to his voice that sets her teeth on edge.
"What do you mean?" she asks, hesitant. He frightens her a little, with that unnerving stare she rarely sees (but she senses it, yes, when the back of her neck starts to prickle in warning). Just a glance from him and she feels so young and inadequate, a mere burden to be shouldered by her companions. He makes her feel like a child, and she hates herself a little because of it.
"There are people in this world who dwell solely in memories," he says sagely. "They refuse to live in the here and now. But you are above this, it seems."
She purses her lips. "Are you making fun of me, old man?"
Auron simply chuckles. "Of course not. But you can't run from the past forever, you know. There comes a time when one must confront their memories. And sometimes memories are all we have left."
There is a pyrefly flickering around him, its yellow-orange glow reflected in the dark tint of his glasses, and she wonders where it came from, this pyrefly.
And when she looks closer he seems somehow indistinct, his edges blurring and fading into the background, as if he's not really there at all.
--
Her feet skim lightly across the hot sand. There are sunbeams beating down on the back of her neck and arid wind whipping at her face and her mouth is gritty and dry but she's smiling all the same as she runs, runs, runs over the dunes with no destination in mind. She doesn't run because she wants to, exactly, or even because she has to - she runs because she's an Al Bhed and that's what she's been taught.
( Keep running, Rikku. Don't look back. Be proud of who you are, but keep running all the same. )
And even at eight years old she sees the hypocrisy in this but says nothing, because she loves the feeling she gets as she runs, the freedom of the desert beneath the soles of her sun-bronzed feet.
"Rikku!" A shout echoes across the sand, shattering the small nirvana she's created. She turns to the faraway figure on the dunes and raises a hand in acknowledgment. Only for a moment, though, and then she's sprinting off again.
( Keep running. Don't stop now. )
"Rikku!" Gippal shouts, and she can almost see him rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Lusa pylg! Cid dumt sa du pnehk oui Rusa! … Fryd yna oui ajah tuehk uid rana?"
But his words are lost on the wind, torn away by a sudden, violent gust. The sand rises up and dances on the air currents, blown about like a wisp of cloud, before finally settling back down to earth. When she opens her eyes the whole landscape looks altered, like a labyrinth with ever-changing walls.
Rikku keeps running.
--
Home is burning to the ground.
Great plumes of acrid black smoke scar the clear blue desert sky. Brilliant flame and the sound of battle roar all around them as they run frantically through the twisting metal corridors, seeking a way out. This fight was over before it began. Now, there is only escape.
To Rikku, the alarm blaring from the loudspeakers sounds so very far away. Her legs are propelling her forward unconsciously, like Machina, and she hardly feels the smoldering embers that occasionally shower her skin.
… No. That's not right. Rikku feels the searing pain. She just doesn't care. Nothing matters anymore. Her world has been shaken, turned upside down, shattered into a thousand shards of hopelessness by this single act of violence, and now she's running away again like she's always been taught and it feels so wrong.
And later on the ship, she smiles at Yuna and says, "I'm fine. Really I am," when truly all she wants to do is scream, because everything's gone and no one seems to want to face the truth. Her father looks just as like always does, without the slightest hint of sadness or doubt in his eyes.
She's not sure why she goes to him of all people. He still frightens her a bit, and he's not exactly the comforting type, but she reckons that none of the others would understand.
"It's like I said," she whispers, and leans her head against the cool metal of the airship. "'Memories are nice, but that's all they are.' So why does it hurt so much?"
He's given her the courtesy of removing those dark glasses, and his good eye slides toward her.
"You expect me to answer that?" he asks, as calm and collected as ever. "That's a question you should ask yourself, Rikku."
She ponders this for a moment, and then promptly bursts into tears. This is not lovely, composed crying, no, this is sobbing until it's hard to breathe. These are not prim, delicate tears, no, these are the kind that gather in the corners of your eyes and cascade down your cheeks, leaving slick, salty trails in their wake.
"I-I'm crying b-because that was th-the first time you've ever called me by my name," she hiccups, and clutches at his arm. "Th-that's why."
Auron reaches over and pats her on the head like one might pet a puppy, and she almost laughs at his attempt at consoling.
He's not buying it, but that doesn't mean they can't pretend.
--
Running is all in the breath, you see. Learn to control your breathing, to set a rhythm and stay with it, and your endurance and speed increase tenfold.
Somewhere far behind, Gippal has given up trying to beat her. He's not fast enough, that much is obvious, and he's far too laid-back to care about winning, but she still feels that same sense of satisfaction as she crosses the makeshift finish line.
She may only be ten years old, stick-thin with legs like twigs, but no one can catch Rikku.
( Keep running forward. Why bother with the past when the future is right there in front of you? Run, Rikku. Seize it. The world is yours for the taking. )
Gippal drags himself across the finish line, panting heavily and wiping sweat from his brow. "How… how the hell do you do that?" he asks breathlessly, doubled over with his hands on his knees. "Nobody should be able to run that fast! Tysh…"
Rikku just grins.
Sasuneac yna hela, pid dryd'c ymm drao yna.
--
Yuna pauses in the midst of her dance, mismatched eyes wide and scared.
"It's alright," says the man in red. "It's been long enough." The pyreflies flicker around him, casting their soft glow against his battle-scarred face, and there is something in his expression that seems almost grateful. His gaze meets hers, but only for a second, and then he looks away, hefting his blade over his shoulder.
In this moment her eyes are prickling with hot tears, and she wants nothing more than to scream and cry and beg him to stay. But she knows, somewhere deep down in her heart, that it is futile. He doesn't belong here anymore.
"This is your world now."
--
Rikku watches the sun set over the desert, appreciating the blood orange shade of the horizon and the long, hazy shadows that stretch their fingers across the sand. She sits on a ruined metal wall, one of the few remainders of Home, and swings her legs.
"Hey, old man," she says to the silence, feeling more than a little foolish. "You were right about asking myself. And about the whole 'memory' thing. And, well… You were right about most stuff, it seems. Too bad you're not still around, or else I'd thank you properly. I mean, I could just visit the Farplane, but somehow I doubt you'd come when I called you. You're kind of a bastard like that, you know? … Anyways. Thank you. For being there and listening to me when I needed it. For… for everything, really. I don't think you gave yourself much credit, but you were damn good at giving advice."
Rikku stops herself there and shakes her head, wondering if perhaps she's going insane. She's acting as if he can hear her. She leaps down from the wall of rubble, landing gracefully on her feet, and stretches out her back with a groan. The remains of Home are scattered all around her - charred objects half buried in the sand, looming skeletons of buildings that had once stood tall and proud.
Rikku turns and looks her memories straight in the eye.
Today's the day she finally stops running.