(no subject)
I'm not sure if this is a sequel to Thesis or a prequel to my mostly-scribbled-notes FF7/8 crack van crossover from hell.
One thing the old books always mention, and one they don't: Hyne was a wicked little trickster, and Hyne was a woman.
Hyne skipped her skin and vanished, they say: after that, history is silent. She left her footprints here, all right; she did us a good one. Who knew, hey? Who knew. She slipped herself sideways through space, she took a few steps into the left and went right out of sight.
If only I'd known.
Me, I blame my foolish, brave, reckless self. Self at nineteen: self all ready to face my demons and punch them right out of me. Well- I did, okay? I did it and that's what caused everything that has been and ever will be, ever on, anon.
It was a huge secret, and that's the first thing I regret. First, that is, after agreeing to the damned plan at all. Secret because, show-off that I was, I wanted the big party, the grand reveal: here I am, World, and no longer a sorceress!
Even dumb old me had questions, and Odine - that little rat - had all the answers. I figured a scientist had to know more about time paradoxes than I did. Fuck, if only I'd sounded it out with someone. Squall wouldn't have seen it, no - he loved me too much, he'd have been blind to failure. Laguna, maybe. Ellone. Quistis would have leaned forward and laughed in my face, pointed her finger at me and stabbed, stabbed, stabbed away at the idea with cold, infallible logic. She did, anyway, but by then it was too late.
Let me explain the Plan as best I can, the Plan that set me reeling through a solid year in Esthar. The story that I knew went like this, and it's like a big old fuck you from Fate: congratulations, you're a sorceress. You are now a sorceress forever, until - unless - you pass on your power. Usually this is when you die, because as I already knew, the magic gets its teeth into you. One minute your hands are cracked and red from washing dishes, the next you're casting a spell to rinse your teacup. And then there's the cons: the power gets its teeth into you, as well. If you're lucky, you live a quiet life raising flowers and orphans somewhere by the sea. If you're unlucky, you crack up. You start hearing voices, and then the next thing you know you've kidnapped every girl child on the eastern continent to find your one worthy heir.
Wait, Edea sort of did that, too.
Basically, the whole thing is awful.
So I didn't want to die or go crazy, and the only other way was like murder. Giving the power to someone else before my time. And, holy crap. Not to blow my own trumpet too loudly, but I have got to say that off the top of my head I could think of about a million worse people to carry the power than me. Ellone. (She'd crack up.) Xu. (She'd blow something up.) The list is long. So, that was out, and after the war I kind of shrugged and went, "Okay, there's this now."
But it was hard, a hard way to live, and alien. Because no one really trusted me any more, that was the bones of it. No one could look at me without seeing Ultimecia's face; isn't that ironic? Before Ultimecia started using us like chess pieces, a sorceress was a curiosity, nothing more - file them in the Weird News drawer with blue mages and fox spirits and those little lights in the sky that steal cows. Adel wears the worst of it, I think. Ultimecia was such a mad and broken thing that it was hard, even for me, to hate her. Adel took the power she had and wielded it like a two-by-four to bring about as much cruelty as she could.
Ultimecia just wanted it all to end.
One thing the old books always mention, and one they don't: Hyne was a wicked little trickster, and Hyne was a woman.
Hyne skipped her skin and vanished, they say: after that, history is silent. She left her footprints here, all right; she did us a good one. Who knew, hey? Who knew. She slipped herself sideways through space, she took a few steps into the left and went right out of sight.
If only I'd known.
Me, I blame my foolish, brave, reckless self. Self at nineteen: self all ready to face my demons and punch them right out of me. Well- I did, okay? I did it and that's what caused everything that has been and ever will be, ever on, anon.
It was a huge secret, and that's the first thing I regret. First, that is, after agreeing to the damned plan at all. Secret because, show-off that I was, I wanted the big party, the grand reveal: here I am, World, and no longer a sorceress!
Even dumb old me had questions, and Odine - that little rat - had all the answers. I figured a scientist had to know more about time paradoxes than I did. Fuck, if only I'd sounded it out with someone. Squall wouldn't have seen it, no - he loved me too much, he'd have been blind to failure. Laguna, maybe. Ellone. Quistis would have leaned forward and laughed in my face, pointed her finger at me and stabbed, stabbed, stabbed away at the idea with cold, infallible logic. She did, anyway, but by then it was too late.
Let me explain the Plan as best I can, the Plan that set me reeling through a solid year in Esthar. The story that I knew went like this, and it's like a big old fuck you from Fate: congratulations, you're a sorceress. You are now a sorceress forever, until - unless - you pass on your power. Usually this is when you die, because as I already knew, the magic gets its teeth into you. One minute your hands are cracked and red from washing dishes, the next you're casting a spell to rinse your teacup. And then there's the cons: the power gets its teeth into you, as well. If you're lucky, you live a quiet life raising flowers and orphans somewhere by the sea. If you're unlucky, you crack up. You start hearing voices, and then the next thing you know you've kidnapped every girl child on the eastern continent to find your one worthy heir.
Wait, Edea sort of did that, too.
Basically, the whole thing is awful.
So I didn't want to die or go crazy, and the only other way was like murder. Giving the power to someone else before my time. And, holy crap. Not to blow my own trumpet too loudly, but I have got to say that off the top of my head I could think of about a million worse people to carry the power than me. Ellone. (She'd crack up.) Xu. (She'd blow something up.) The list is long. So, that was out, and after the war I kind of shrugged and went, "Okay, there's this now."
But it was hard, a hard way to live, and alien. Because no one really trusted me any more, that was the bones of it. No one could look at me without seeing Ultimecia's face; isn't that ironic? Before Ultimecia started using us like chess pieces, a sorceress was a curiosity, nothing more - file them in the Weird News drawer with blue mages and fox spirits and those little lights in the sky that steal cows. Adel wears the worst of it, I think. Ultimecia was such a mad and broken thing that it was hard, even for me, to hate her. Adel took the power she had and wielded it like a two-by-four to bring about as much cruelty as she could.
Ultimecia just wanted it all to end.