Clean (FFIV)
Clean
Fandom: FFIV
Characters: Cecil, Rydia
Rating: G
Notes: for venefica_aura on the Valentine's Day Meme, for her prompt: "baby!Rydia/Cecil, preferably gen or something cute and not pedophiliac. I CAN'T HELP IT." It has no roses in it, but there is mention of Rosa, which I will count as a win.
- - -
"Can I try?"
Cecil looks up. The little girl is staring at his sword, currently stretched across his knees as he cleans it. It's amazing how the fear still flashes in her eyes sometimes, days later -- but now, she's perfectly calm and almost curious.
"I don't want you to hurt yourself," he says slowly. The Dark Sword is not a child's plaything -- nor anyone's, really -- and it does not take kindly to strangers. But he hates to deny her, especially when she's in such a good mood.
"I'll be careful," Rydia says with an all-knowing tone as she scootches across the ground to stand before him. Funny, but even seated on this rock as he is, he's still taller than she. "Besides, I can heal if something happens, you know."
"It is not a toy," Cecil says, but then Rydia looks up at him, and her eyes are angry. And he thinks: neither is her magic, nor the rod she wields in battle, so much like a grown mage. The gift he brought to Mist was no toy; her mother's death, no game.
This little girl will understand better than most. Cecil holds the Dark Sword out towards her, cautiously.
To his surprise, Rydia reaches past it, for the cloth in his hand. She rests one palm on the sword -- the blade is as wide as her hand -- and then carefully brings the cloth down its edge, slowly. She pauses, and scrubs at a speck of dust on the blade. Her tongue creeps out of her mouth in concentration. As her hand shifts, she notices the fingerprints, and is lost in a sudden flurry of scrubbing.
Cecil watches, surprised. The darkness inside the blade seems to have no effect on her. Is it because she is so young? The legends he has heard about Mist and Summoners speak of innocence; only those who are pure of heart can call forth the strongest of beasts. But the sword recoils from Rosa; perhaps, then, it is the black magic the girl wields, the power for destruction, that the sword recognizes.
Rydia looks up at him and grins. "There you go," she says cheerfully. She does not seem a whit drained by the dark energy. "Thanks for letting me help! That was neat."
Cecil lifts the blade to inspect her work. There are tiny fingerprints all over the blade, somewhat dulling the shine -- but it feels lighter.
Fandom: FFIV
Characters: Cecil, Rydia
Rating: G
Notes: for venefica_aura on the Valentine's Day Meme, for her prompt: "baby!Rydia/Cecil, preferably gen or something cute and not pedophiliac. I CAN'T HELP IT." It has no roses in it, but there is mention of Rosa, which I will count as a win.
- - -
"Can I try?"
Cecil looks up. The little girl is staring at his sword, currently stretched across his knees as he cleans it. It's amazing how the fear still flashes in her eyes sometimes, days later -- but now, she's perfectly calm and almost curious.
"I don't want you to hurt yourself," he says slowly. The Dark Sword is not a child's plaything -- nor anyone's, really -- and it does not take kindly to strangers. But he hates to deny her, especially when she's in such a good mood.
"I'll be careful," Rydia says with an all-knowing tone as she scootches across the ground to stand before him. Funny, but even seated on this rock as he is, he's still taller than she. "Besides, I can heal if something happens, you know."
"It is not a toy," Cecil says, but then Rydia looks up at him, and her eyes are angry. And he thinks: neither is her magic, nor the rod she wields in battle, so much like a grown mage. The gift he brought to Mist was no toy; her mother's death, no game.
This little girl will understand better than most. Cecil holds the Dark Sword out towards her, cautiously.
To his surprise, Rydia reaches past it, for the cloth in his hand. She rests one palm on the sword -- the blade is as wide as her hand -- and then carefully brings the cloth down its edge, slowly. She pauses, and scrubs at a speck of dust on the blade. Her tongue creeps out of her mouth in concentration. As her hand shifts, she notices the fingerprints, and is lost in a sudden flurry of scrubbing.
Cecil watches, surprised. The darkness inside the blade seems to have no effect on her. Is it because she is so young? The legends he has heard about Mist and Summoners speak of innocence; only those who are pure of heart can call forth the strongest of beasts. But the sword recoils from Rosa; perhaps, then, it is the black magic the girl wields, the power for destruction, that the sword recognizes.
Rydia looks up at him and grins. "There you go," she says cheerfully. She does not seem a whit drained by the dark energy. "Thanks for letting me help! That was neat."
Cecil lifts the blade to inspect her work. There are tiny fingerprints all over the blade, somewhat dulling the shine -- but it feels lighter.