0TP Meme: Guardian of Respite
NOTE: Moved from the original post for archiving purposes. ff_press, please ignore. Original post is here for anyone who wants to read the original comments. Sorry for the confusion.
Guardian of Respite
Fandom: FFVIII/FFX
Pairing: Quistis/Auron
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: 1 (Auron), 2 (Quistis), "rash"
They are curled under his coat, even though it is warm. Auron thinks she has the same aversion he carries to unusual eyes on bare skin; even familiar eyes, sometimes, are not welcome. It's in her mannerisms: the way she curls against him, keeping him close so all he can see is the bare curve of her back. This way, also, they do not have to meet the other's eyes. Auron wonders for a moment what her eyes would say, behind those glasses she wears.
She hadn't removed them. Then again, he hadn't removed his, either.
It has been two -- well, days, although time in the Farplane is different than time in the real world, and even Farplane-time has been skewed and stretched since she appeared here: lost and broken and bruised from battle, babbling about some sort of Sorceress and looking for friends Auron has never met. He offered to help her find them, or a way out: whichever came first. She was weary enough to accept.
It was, perhaps, rash of him to do this, but she initiated the offer, even in her confusion -- and his restraint is, perhaps, not what it once was in real-Spira. After clinging to not-life so long as an Unsent and only wanting release and rest, Auron is almost surprised to be so drawn to this girl's life-blood: the pulse still beats, a tiny tick in her neck, and he cannot take his eyes from it. She does not belong here, in this world of peace and death.
But she backs up against him, murmuring something, and he is reminded that he was once a protector: a guardian. The guardian. She does not belong here, but he can keep her safe. She is a warrior -- he could tell even before she removed her clothing -- but she has little power in the Farplane. The living rarely do.
Guardian. It is a role Auron knows well, and he is further surprised to find himself not as weary of it as expected. He thinks of the things he breathed when alive, and misses them, and his arm tightens around the strange girl. The movement seems to relax her.
Sometimes, Auron realizes, the living do seek their comfort from the dead.
Guardian of Respite
Fandom: FFVIII/FFX
Pairing: Quistis/Auron
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: 1 (Auron), 2 (Quistis), "rash"
They are curled under his coat, even though it is warm. Auron thinks she has the same aversion he carries to unusual eyes on bare skin; even familiar eyes, sometimes, are not welcome. It's in her mannerisms: the way she curls against him, keeping him close so all he can see is the bare curve of her back. This way, also, they do not have to meet the other's eyes. Auron wonders for a moment what her eyes would say, behind those glasses she wears.
She hadn't removed them. Then again, he hadn't removed his, either.
It has been two -- well, days, although time in the Farplane is different than time in the real world, and even Farplane-time has been skewed and stretched since she appeared here: lost and broken and bruised from battle, babbling about some sort of Sorceress and looking for friends Auron has never met. He offered to help her find them, or a way out: whichever came first. She was weary enough to accept.
It was, perhaps, rash of him to do this, but she initiated the offer, even in her confusion -- and his restraint is, perhaps, not what it once was in real-Spira. After clinging to not-life so long as an Unsent and only wanting release and rest, Auron is almost surprised to be so drawn to this girl's life-blood: the pulse still beats, a tiny tick in her neck, and he cannot take his eyes from it. She does not belong here, in this world of peace and death.
But she backs up against him, murmuring something, and he is reminded that he was once a protector: a guardian. The guardian. She does not belong here, but he can keep her safe. She is a warrior -- he could tell even before she removed her clothing -- but she has little power in the Farplane. The living rarely do.
Guardian. It is a role Auron knows well, and he is further surprised to find himself not as weary of it as expected. He thinks of the things he breathed when alive, and misses them, and his arm tightens around the strange girl. The movement seems to relax her.
Sometimes, Auron realizes, the living do seek their comfort from the dead.