Title: Rising Song
I swear, I'm going to turn into an emo chick any day now, so watch out.
I wrote yet another FFX one-shot:
It's rather crappy, but I'll put it up anyway. I just can't beat "Salvation," I guess.
"Rising Song"
A song winds its way through Spira. The church of Yevon breathes, sleeps, and awakes to the sound of their faith. In the darkest hours of the night, the brightest of the day, the never ending hymn echoes through the minds of the people.
What will you sing?
She stands in a half-circle of priests, awkward, embarrassed, but determined. Questions are put to her, in a perfunctory manner. Neither question nor answer holds any importance to her or these men, but only her presence. From the distant Cloister of Trials she can hear the hymn, the notes vibrating in the cold stones beneath her feet. She lets it enter her mind, her soul, and wrap around her heart in a cool cocoon of calmness, slowing her heartbeat. She stands taller, and her hands do not twist in her maidenly skirt. She is the daughter of a summoner.
Yuna leaves the temple, flushed with the effort of holding in a rush of both fear and triumph. She hurries past her father’s statue, gives a hasty bow to a summoner -- a fellow summoner, now - on his pilgrimage and rushes out to tell Wakka and Lulu. She hadn’t told them before she entered.
The staff, long as she is tall, is unwieldy and bangs into her shins, nearly tripping her up. The sweat from her palms is like grease on its handle; it slides in her unsure grasp and she trips to the ground. She lifts herself up, breathless and relieved that no one is there to see her so clumsy. Fifteen is young, to begin training, but she knows her duty. Summoners are trained in grace, and liquidity in their persona, movements, and summonings. She cannot inspire hope for a people if she is unsure in herself. Fifteen is a difficult time to become sure in oneself.
Passing the beach, she sees the Aurochs, practicing without their leader, singing in cheerfully robust and out-of-tune voices the hymn, missing notes as they pass the blitzball in a high-flying volley. Yuna hears the song in her head, notes in place and perfct pitch, twining around one another, and lifting her up as she runs.
Time passes, and a young woman enters the temple again. Hesitation in her steps is swept away by the comforting tune that calls her through the stone arches that mark the entrance to the home of Valefor. A woman’s voice is singing, pure and vibrato, and Yuna’s footsteps are a pale shadow of a heartbeat as she enters.
The song winds through Spira, long winding harmonies twining together in the church of Yevon. In the dawning and the evening the melody never ceases, eternally guiding the path of a million heartbeats.
What will you do when the song ends?
I wrote yet another FFX one-shot:
It's rather crappy, but I'll put it up anyway. I just can't beat "Salvation," I guess.
"Rising Song"
A song winds its way through Spira. The church of Yevon breathes, sleeps, and awakes to the sound of their faith. In the darkest hours of the night, the brightest of the day, the never ending hymn echoes through the minds of the people.
What will you sing?
She stands in a half-circle of priests, awkward, embarrassed, but determined. Questions are put to her, in a perfunctory manner. Neither question nor answer holds any importance to her or these men, but only her presence. From the distant Cloister of Trials she can hear the hymn, the notes vibrating in the cold stones beneath her feet. She lets it enter her mind, her soul, and wrap around her heart in a cool cocoon of calmness, slowing her heartbeat. She stands taller, and her hands do not twist in her maidenly skirt. She is the daughter of a summoner.
Yuna leaves the temple, flushed with the effort of holding in a rush of both fear and triumph. She hurries past her father’s statue, gives a hasty bow to a summoner -- a fellow summoner, now - on his pilgrimage and rushes out to tell Wakka and Lulu. She hadn’t told them before she entered.
The staff, long as she is tall, is unwieldy and bangs into her shins, nearly tripping her up. The sweat from her palms is like grease on its handle; it slides in her unsure grasp and she trips to the ground. She lifts herself up, breathless and relieved that no one is there to see her so clumsy. Fifteen is young, to begin training, but she knows her duty. Summoners are trained in grace, and liquidity in their persona, movements, and summonings. She cannot inspire hope for a people if she is unsure in herself. Fifteen is a difficult time to become sure in oneself.
Passing the beach, she sees the Aurochs, practicing without their leader, singing in cheerfully robust and out-of-tune voices the hymn, missing notes as they pass the blitzball in a high-flying volley. Yuna hears the song in her head, notes in place and perfct pitch, twining around one another, and lifting her up as she runs.
Time passes, and a young woman enters the temple again. Hesitation in her steps is swept away by the comforting tune that calls her through the stone arches that mark the entrance to the home of Valefor. A woman’s voice is singing, pure and vibrato, and Yuna’s footsteps are a pale shadow of a heartbeat as she enters.
The song winds through Spira, long winding harmonies twining together in the church of Yevon. In the dawning and the evening the melody never ceases, eternally guiding the path of a million heartbeats.
What will you do when the song ends?