tales of the abyss; gen
Fandom: Tales of the Abyss
Characters/Pairings: Tear, Luke; gen
Title: Tempered, Inevitably
Rating: G
Notes: I suppose there would technically be tiny bits of spoilers, but I'm still under ten hours into the game (which I got for Christmas today, heheheh :DDD), so no real secrets yet.
Posted: N/A
Tear remembers now why she's always hated dealing with new recruits.
Luke is the embodiment of every greenhorn soldier she's ever known. He has the same wide-eyed incredulity, the same stainless morals, the same flinch. He stares at knife wounds as if they're the artifacts of another world.
But today is the start of something else -- of that phase she'd almost forgotten was coming.
She remembers how he'd looked that one night, in the very beginning, when it was just the two of them. In the inn, asleep, that mouth of his closed for once, he had been soft. Soft and new and untested -- all peaceful dreams and baby-soft curves.
"I said I'll fight," he says now, and his voice is edged with steel.
She threatens him, tries to scare him; but it doesn't do any good, and already something in his eyes is changing.
Just like a perfectly normal boy -- that's what she'd thought, all those nights ago. But tonight, sleeping under her steady gaze, Luke is made of straight lines and hard edges. Tear can still see a hint of innocence, of soft white petals, in the curves of his closed eyes. But then he twitches in his sleep, knots his eyebrows, jerks his hand down to where his sword should be; and it's gone.
She wants to cry for him, as she never did for any of the other soldiers; but it's been too long, and she doesn't know how to begin.
Characters/Pairings: Tear, Luke; gen
Title: Tempered, Inevitably
Rating: G
Notes: I suppose there would technically be tiny bits of spoilers, but I'm still under ten hours into the game (which I got for Christmas today, heheheh :DDD), so no real secrets yet.
Posted: N/A
Tear remembers now why she's always hated dealing with new recruits.
Luke is the embodiment of every greenhorn soldier she's ever known. He has the same wide-eyed incredulity, the same stainless morals, the same flinch. He stares at knife wounds as if they're the artifacts of another world.
But today is the start of something else -- of that phase she'd almost forgotten was coming.
She remembers how he'd looked that one night, in the very beginning, when it was just the two of them. In the inn, asleep, that mouth of his closed for once, he had been soft. Soft and new and untested -- all peaceful dreams and baby-soft curves.
"I said I'll fight," he says now, and his voice is edged with steel.
She threatens him, tries to scare him; but it doesn't do any good, and already something in his eyes is changing.
Just like a perfectly normal boy -- that's what she'd thought, all those nights ago. But tonight, sleeping under her steady gaze, Luke is made of straight lines and hard edges. Tear can still see a hint of innocence, of soft white petals, in the curves of his closed eyes. But then he twitches in his sleep, knots his eyebrows, jerks his hand down to where his sword should be; and it's gone.
She wants to cry for him, as she never did for any of the other soldiers; but it's been too long, and she doesn't know how to begin.