Tandem - Celes/Terra, FFVI
Title: Tandem
Fandom: FFVI
Pairing: Celes/Terra
Prompt: Friends/Partners
Rating: PG
Words: 300
Spoilers?: None, but takes place in the World of Ruin.
Author's Note: I always seem to write these two when they're fighting something.
Celes draws her sword. Next to her, Terra does the same, facing the six-legged Basilisk behind them. A cold wind sweeps down off the mountains, but to Celes it is a refreshing breeze as they go to work, whirling and slicing. Out of the corner of her eye she glances at Terra, watching her as she has done so many times before. She recognizes the training of the Empire in the woman's stance, in the efficient and merciless way that she wields her blade. It seeks the eyes, the throat, cutting the tendons of the legs to disable the monster and dispatching it with a swift thrust before moving onto the next target.
Her own fighting style, Celes knows, is more measured. A general fights differently than a foot soldier. She moves in more slowly, drawing in the basilisk and then cutting at it with quick movements, enticing it to present weakness and then making it pay for doing so. Her thoughts move with speed and calm, assessing and calculating rapidly.
Yet she has changed. A year ago, there would have been grace and poise, a slight flourish of the wrist to flick blood from her blade that would have left her open to claws and teeth. And beside her, Terra pauses in her assault, allowing the monster to make a move so that she can cut it off--it is a far cry from the wild fight for each second of survival that Celes had witnessed the first time they traveled to Narshe. They had taught each other many things since then.
Wordlessly, Celes holds out a clean cloth to Terra. The other woman wipes a spatter of blood from her face. There is no need for words between them as they walk back to the Falcon.
Fandom: FFVI
Pairing: Celes/Terra
Prompt: Friends/Partners
Rating: PG
Words: 300
Spoilers?: None, but takes place in the World of Ruin.
Author's Note: I always seem to write these two when they're fighting something.
Celes draws her sword. Next to her, Terra does the same, facing the six-legged Basilisk behind them. A cold wind sweeps down off the mountains, but to Celes it is a refreshing breeze as they go to work, whirling and slicing. Out of the corner of her eye she glances at Terra, watching her as she has done so many times before. She recognizes the training of the Empire in the woman's stance, in the efficient and merciless way that she wields her blade. It seeks the eyes, the throat, cutting the tendons of the legs to disable the monster and dispatching it with a swift thrust before moving onto the next target.
Her own fighting style, Celes knows, is more measured. A general fights differently than a foot soldier. She moves in more slowly, drawing in the basilisk and then cutting at it with quick movements, enticing it to present weakness and then making it pay for doing so. Her thoughts move with speed and calm, assessing and calculating rapidly.
Yet she has changed. A year ago, there would have been grace and poise, a slight flourish of the wrist to flick blood from her blade that would have left her open to claws and teeth. And beside her, Terra pauses in her assault, allowing the monster to make a move so that she can cut it off--it is a far cry from the wild fight for each second of survival that Celes had witnessed the first time they traveled to Narshe. They had taught each other many things since then.
Wordlessly, Celes holds out a clean cloth to Terra. The other woman wipes a spatter of blood from her face. There is no need for words between them as they walk back to the Falcon.