FFXII: Hole
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Pairing: Balthier/Fran
Warnings: Angst, deathfic
Rating: G
Summary: Finding a way to deal with sorrow. For the_sandsea.
"Where will you go now?"
Fran looks at Basch. For a moment, she just takes it in: the scene around them, queens and emperors and knights and common children from the streets, all together to mourn a sky pirate, and she thinks she appreciates Hume humour now, because she feels the urge to laugh at this and knows Balthier would have done. She knows Hume sorrow, now, the sorrow of impermanence, an ache that bites deep inside her unlike any she has ever known before. "I do not know. He wanted Vaan to have the Strahl, but then we never..."
"You never intended to survive his death," Basch says, quietly. "I understand."
"It was more we simply expected to be together in all things," she says, and there's a tenderness in her voice too, along with the ache. Oh, Balthier. Balthier. How she loved him, loves him still. When a Viera is lost, the Wood still speaks of them -- some of their essence remains. The world is silent always, and it does not speak of Balthier. For the Humes, the misery is too close to truly speak of him. For years, their words will edge around him.
It is the first time she has truly considered going back to the Wood. Oh, she missed the Wood before, with an ache like to this, but she never thought to return there in truth. But she has turned her face from her sisters, and Balthier -- she can almost hear his voice now, the mockery, telling her not to run away.
"When Noah passed away," Basch says, and his voice is careful around the words, like they bend around the gap left, "I found it easiest to busy myself. Perhaps you should find a new partner and take the Strahl yourself. I am sure he would like you to have it."
"You buried your sorrow in work, and there it still remains, waiting to swallow you," Fran says, quietly. "It is the demon you fear in the night, the lock that guards the doors of your heart. You are not where you want to be. If I thought it would help, I would tell you that the Strahl could bear two heavy hearts as well as one."
"If I thought it would help, I would ask you to Archades, to serve Lord Larsa's cause. There is enough work to bury a million sorrows," Basch says, and he smiles a little at her. "But the Strahl would not suit me, and Archades would not suit you. We must seek elsewhere for heavy hearts to join us."
Fran smiles, and there is bitterness and mockery in it: it is Balthier's kind of smile, a Hume's smile, and sad he would be to see it on her. "The Hume world has no lack."
Pairing: Balthier/Fran
Warnings: Angst, deathfic
Rating: G
Summary: Finding a way to deal with sorrow. For the_sandsea.
"Where will you go now?"
Fran looks at Basch. For a moment, she just takes it in: the scene around them, queens and emperors and knights and common children from the streets, all together to mourn a sky pirate, and she thinks she appreciates Hume humour now, because she feels the urge to laugh at this and knows Balthier would have done. She knows Hume sorrow, now, the sorrow of impermanence, an ache that bites deep inside her unlike any she has ever known before. "I do not know. He wanted Vaan to have the Strahl, but then we never..."
"You never intended to survive his death," Basch says, quietly. "I understand."
"It was more we simply expected to be together in all things," she says, and there's a tenderness in her voice too, along with the ache. Oh, Balthier. Balthier. How she loved him, loves him still. When a Viera is lost, the Wood still speaks of them -- some of their essence remains. The world is silent always, and it does not speak of Balthier. For the Humes, the misery is too close to truly speak of him. For years, their words will edge around him.
It is the first time she has truly considered going back to the Wood. Oh, she missed the Wood before, with an ache like to this, but she never thought to return there in truth. But she has turned her face from her sisters, and Balthier -- she can almost hear his voice now, the mockery, telling her not to run away.
"When Noah passed away," Basch says, and his voice is careful around the words, like they bend around the gap left, "I found it easiest to busy myself. Perhaps you should find a new partner and take the Strahl yourself. I am sure he would like you to have it."
"You buried your sorrow in work, and there it still remains, waiting to swallow you," Fran says, quietly. "It is the demon you fear in the night, the lock that guards the doors of your heart. You are not where you want to be. If I thought it would help, I would tell you that the Strahl could bear two heavy hearts as well as one."
"If I thought it would help, I would ask you to Archades, to serve Lord Larsa's cause. There is enough work to bury a million sorrows," Basch says, and he smiles a little at her. "But the Strahl would not suit me, and Archades would not suit you. We must seek elsewhere for heavy hearts to join us."
Fran smiles, and there is bitterness and mockery in it: it is Balthier's kind of smile, a Hume's smile, and sad he would be to see it on her. "The Hume world has no lack."