[Final Fantasy VI] Fade
Pairing: Locke/Celes
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Notes: Written for sister_coyote.
Wordcount: 1200
Summary: All her life, magic had been a force within her, chained and counterbalanced.
Beta: seventhe
The plains near South Figaro were eerily quiet, without even the song of the wind rustling through the grasses. In this ruined world, the wind either howled or was stilled; gone were the cooling breezes of before.
Celes knelt by her carefully constructed pile of twigs and dry grass, patiently striking flint and steel until at length a spark caught on the grasses and ran to the twigs. She added a few larger branches, careful not to overload the nascent fire.
Locke returned from the nearby stream, holding a large fish. "You want to clean it?" he asked, brandishing the fish in her direction.
Celes glanced sideways at him. "I thought you were the great fisherman."
"I catch 'em, I don't clean 'em," he said, but nonetheless he seated himself by the fire and pulled out his knife to begin scraping off the scales. Celes began pulling implements out of their pack, lining them up in the order she knew he preferred when he cooked. It perpetually amused her that the only time Locke insisted on organization was when he was preparing food.
They sat in companionable silence for a while as he finished cleaning the fish. Celes watched the fire grow stronger, slowly consuming the kindling she had used. She added more wood to it. "This was easier when there was magic," she murmured, watching the flames bite into the wood and start to spread along it.
"Just build up a nice little pyramid of logs and cast a spell?" Locke cut the fish up, placing the neat filets in the skillet she had set down near his right hand. "Lacks adventure."
"I think we had more than sufficient adventure without additional challenges building a campfire," Celes replied.
Locke finished with the fish and wandered off to wash his hands. When he returned, he tossed a bit of this and that into the skillet with the fish. Celes watched, fascinated. When she cooked, she followed each recipe precisely. Locke didn't bother with recipes, yet the result was always tasty (with the exception of the pork chops incident, which they had agreed never to speak of again.)
The fire was strong enough that she could add the larger pieces of wood, and she did so. Locke placed the skillet over the fire, prodding the fish lightly with the tip of his knife. It sizzled, and the garlic and onions in the skillet began to soften and become fragrant.
"Do you miss it?" he asked after a moment.
"Wondering if Kefka would immolate us with his Light of Judgment?" She shook her head.
"No. Your magic."
She hesitated, staring into the crimson and gold flames. "I miss the strength it afforded, and I wish we still had access to healing magic. But I don't miss having to constantly be alert and constantly controlling that power, especially after the world fell."
Locke made a startled sound. "It didn't feel like that for me."
"For you, and for most of them, magic was an additional skill you learned," she replied. "For me, it was part of who I was. The Magi-Tek infusion changes the recipient."
Deftly Locke flipped the pieces of fish over with the blade of his knife. They sizzled in the hot pan. The scent of garlic was making her mouth water.
"Hand me the wine, would you?" he asked. She rummaged in her pack and located the flask of Albrook white. He poured some arbitrary amount into the skillet, and the scent of alcohol cooking off stung her nostrils.
"Does it fade?" he asked after a moment, still staring at the fish with unnecessary intensity.
Celes began to return unused ingredients and implements to their pack, needing something to occupy her hands. "I feel different than I did when we fought; my magic is less accessible. So I know that the magic itself is fading. I do not know what other effects the infusion may have had."
The silence between them was less comfortable this time, broken only by the sizzling of the fish and the snapping of the fire. Locke slid the food onto plates scavenged from Imperial mess kits, and handed hers to her. She stared at it, less hungry now than she had been before. After a moment she made herself take a bite. The fish was moist and perfectly cooked.
Locke drank from the wine flask, and handed it to her. She turned the flask idly in her hands rather than drinking from it. "Ramuh said, in Zozo, that an Esper's power can only be fully transferred when it dies," she said.
"I remember." Locke added a bit more wood to the fire.
"I think that maybe it's not just that, but also that the power can only be transferred safely when the Esper has passed away. Everyone who had the MagiTek infusion was changed by it in some way--Kefka is only the most obvious example." She set the wine aside without drinking from it, and scooped fish onto her slice of bread.
"What about Terra, then?" Locke spoke around a mouthful of bread and cheese.
"I've never asked," Celes answered. "It seemed...rude." She took a bite of the bread, and found that her appetite seemed to be returning. She scooped up more fish.
"What's it like? I mean..." He trailed off, and stared down at his plate.
Celes struggled for the words she wanted, chasing a bit of onion around her plate. "It's like a very strong river, or maybe like rocks on the mountainside held in a precarious balance. Under normal circumstances, they'll remain as they are, and nothing will happen. But change something, get a strong wind or a storm or a herd of animals running past, and the balance could be upset, leaving the rocks to tumble down and crush everything in their path. You have to watch for things that can upset the balance, and know where to add extra support without making matters worse." She paused, heard her own words. "I mean, it was." She found it strange that she still thought of it as something in the present.
Locke didn't reply. Celes finished her meal and gathered the dishes to clean them, leaving Locke sitting by the fire.
When she returned with the clean dishes, he had put water on to boil for tea. She packed away the rest of the cooking implements, and sat next to him on the bedroll. The air was almost perfectly still, like the surface of the lake in the mountains north of Vector where she had frequently gone on leave. She used to watch the dying sunlight glimmer red and orange off the surface of the water. The last vestiges of magic in the world had been like that-- a mere shadow of the power they had wielded, fading away like the light at the end of the day.
"It's better this way," she said, as though the period of silence had never occurred.
Locke looked at her soberly for a moment, and nodded. "If you're sure," he said.
Of course, he couldn't do anything about it even if she wasn't, but she appreciated the gesture. She nodded, and smiled back.
He took her hand, his skin warm against hers, and together they watched their fire brighten against the falling darkness.
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Notes: Written for sister_coyote.
Wordcount: 1200
Summary: All her life, magic had been a force within her, chained and counterbalanced.
Beta: seventhe
The plains near South Figaro were eerily quiet, without even the song of the wind rustling through the grasses. In this ruined world, the wind either howled or was stilled; gone were the cooling breezes of before.
Celes knelt by her carefully constructed pile of twigs and dry grass, patiently striking flint and steel until at length a spark caught on the grasses and ran to the twigs. She added a few larger branches, careful not to overload the nascent fire.
Locke returned from the nearby stream, holding a large fish. "You want to clean it?" he asked, brandishing the fish in her direction.
Celes glanced sideways at him. "I thought you were the great fisherman."
"I catch 'em, I don't clean 'em," he said, but nonetheless he seated himself by the fire and pulled out his knife to begin scraping off the scales. Celes began pulling implements out of their pack, lining them up in the order she knew he preferred when he cooked. It perpetually amused her that the only time Locke insisted on organization was when he was preparing food.
They sat in companionable silence for a while as he finished cleaning the fish. Celes watched the fire grow stronger, slowly consuming the kindling she had used. She added more wood to it. "This was easier when there was magic," she murmured, watching the flames bite into the wood and start to spread along it.
"Just build up a nice little pyramid of logs and cast a spell?" Locke cut the fish up, placing the neat filets in the skillet she had set down near his right hand. "Lacks adventure."
"I think we had more than sufficient adventure without additional challenges building a campfire," Celes replied.
Locke finished with the fish and wandered off to wash his hands. When he returned, he tossed a bit of this and that into the skillet with the fish. Celes watched, fascinated. When she cooked, she followed each recipe precisely. Locke didn't bother with recipes, yet the result was always tasty (with the exception of the pork chops incident, which they had agreed never to speak of again.)
The fire was strong enough that she could add the larger pieces of wood, and she did so. Locke placed the skillet over the fire, prodding the fish lightly with the tip of his knife. It sizzled, and the garlic and onions in the skillet began to soften and become fragrant.
"Do you miss it?" he asked after a moment.
"Wondering if Kefka would immolate us with his Light of Judgment?" She shook her head.
"No. Your magic."
She hesitated, staring into the crimson and gold flames. "I miss the strength it afforded, and I wish we still had access to healing magic. But I don't miss having to constantly be alert and constantly controlling that power, especially after the world fell."
Locke made a startled sound. "It didn't feel like that for me."
"For you, and for most of them, magic was an additional skill you learned," she replied. "For me, it was part of who I was. The Magi-Tek infusion changes the recipient."
Deftly Locke flipped the pieces of fish over with the blade of his knife. They sizzled in the hot pan. The scent of garlic was making her mouth water.
"Hand me the wine, would you?" he asked. She rummaged in her pack and located the flask of Albrook white. He poured some arbitrary amount into the skillet, and the scent of alcohol cooking off stung her nostrils.
"Does it fade?" he asked after a moment, still staring at the fish with unnecessary intensity.
Celes began to return unused ingredients and implements to their pack, needing something to occupy her hands. "I feel different than I did when we fought; my magic is less accessible. So I know that the magic itself is fading. I do not know what other effects the infusion may have had."
The silence between them was less comfortable this time, broken only by the sizzling of the fish and the snapping of the fire. Locke slid the food onto plates scavenged from Imperial mess kits, and handed hers to her. She stared at it, less hungry now than she had been before. After a moment she made herself take a bite. The fish was moist and perfectly cooked.
Locke drank from the wine flask, and handed it to her. She turned the flask idly in her hands rather than drinking from it. "Ramuh said, in Zozo, that an Esper's power can only be fully transferred when it dies," she said.
"I remember." Locke added a bit more wood to the fire.
"I think that maybe it's not just that, but also that the power can only be transferred safely when the Esper has passed away. Everyone who had the MagiTek infusion was changed by it in some way--Kefka is only the most obvious example." She set the wine aside without drinking from it, and scooped fish onto her slice of bread.
"What about Terra, then?" Locke spoke around a mouthful of bread and cheese.
"I've never asked," Celes answered. "It seemed...rude." She took a bite of the bread, and found that her appetite seemed to be returning. She scooped up more fish.
"What's it like? I mean..." He trailed off, and stared down at his plate.
Celes struggled for the words she wanted, chasing a bit of onion around her plate. "It's like a very strong river, or maybe like rocks on the mountainside held in a precarious balance. Under normal circumstances, they'll remain as they are, and nothing will happen. But change something, get a strong wind or a storm or a herd of animals running past, and the balance could be upset, leaving the rocks to tumble down and crush everything in their path. You have to watch for things that can upset the balance, and know where to add extra support without making matters worse." She paused, heard her own words. "I mean, it was." She found it strange that she still thought of it as something in the present.
Locke didn't reply. Celes finished her meal and gathered the dishes to clean them, leaving Locke sitting by the fire.
When she returned with the clean dishes, he had put water on to boil for tea. She packed away the rest of the cooking implements, and sat next to him on the bedroll. The air was almost perfectly still, like the surface of the lake in the mountains north of Vector where she had frequently gone on leave. She used to watch the dying sunlight glimmer red and orange off the surface of the water. The last vestiges of magic in the world had been like that-- a mere shadow of the power they had wielded, fading away like the light at the end of the day.
"It's better this way," she said, as though the period of silence had never occurred.
Locke looked at her soberly for a moment, and nodded. "If you're sure," he said.
Of course, he couldn't do anything about it even if she wasn't, but she appreciated the gesture. She nodded, and smiled back.
He took her hand, his skin warm against hers, and together they watched their fire brighten against the falling darkness.