Title: Forever
Yet another one-shot XD
I was seven years old when my father became a god.
It is not as Kimahri intended to explain it to me, but it is what he said to a small, stone-faced child who could not accept that her father abandoned her for eternal glory.
"He is gone elsewhere."
"Where does he want to go without me?"
"Somewhere people will never scorn him again," Kimahri rumbled slowly.
"Why?"
"To save the world. He will be immortal. The people will bring offerings to his statues. They will remember his name forever."
Forever.
--- ---
I was ten years old when Lulu caught me a pyrefly, her hands forming a cage.
"Look, Yuna," she said in her dry voice. The flame of the pyrefly caust an aurora on the ashen skin that even the sun of Besaid could not warm.
"Doesn't it burn?" I asked.
"That's insignificant. The pain will go away."
I stared at the pyrefly. They are little different at a close range than from far away, but they are still glorious creations of light and color, with a center almost too brighth to look at. But they do not live long, confined. This one, this thing of insubstantial beauty, died.
"See, Yuna," said Lulu, shaking it indifferently from her hands. "It faded away, just as we humans do. We die. Nothing lasts forever."
I will, I said, but silently, as Lulu's eyes rose to follow Chappu as he turned to smile at her.
--- ---
I was fourteen years old when Wakka taught me to throw a blitzball through thirty yards of water, to beat half of the boys in Besaid in a race to go retrieve the ball, and to successfully retain the ball as the aforementioned half attempted to take it from me.
"There's a skill will last you forever," roared Wakka, well-pleased with himself, as we returned to the village.
At fourteen I had not yet undergone a growth spirt, and was still small of stature. I struggled to keep up with his long strides as the wet skirt my recently discovered self-conciousness had forced me to wear even into the water.
"Lulu says nothing lasts forever," I told him, just to be contrary.
A shadow crossed his features, and his broad, dark face was expressionless. "She's wrong. Can't we see that? Yevon guides us, always has and will."
I did not believe in Yevon as Wakka did, and he knew it.
"Memories are forever," he said, stopping and turning to face me. "They are how we live after death. It's how I see Chappu every day, still. Chappu is forever. We're all forever."
I will be eternal, I said silently, but Wakka's face was turned to the sun and he was done talking, and as he broke into a run he let loose a wild cry.
--- ---
I was seventeen years old, and Auron was sitting, blank-faced, by the fire.
"Tell me about my father," I told him.
"Braska was proud," Auron said, almost absently. "He was kind, too, and he was noble, but no one noticed he was so headstrong."
"You did." I was surprised at his unusual willingness to speak.
"I knew him better than anyone else, except maybe Jecht. When he fell in love with your mother, the world despised their union. He could not stand that anyone would presume to pass judgement, to expect him to act as they wished, so he married her partly out of spite."
"Did he ever speak of...immortality?" I asked, casually.
"All Braska could think of was the present," Auron said with more of his usual bluntness. "When the world abandoned him, he would not accept it. He would show the world his scorn for theirs. Nothing was more important than his pride."
I was silent.
"Immortality is a lie," he said, staring into the distance. "Thre is a life, and then nothing. I know."
There will be more, I said, but not aloud, because his fit of talkativeness ahd ceased and his eyes were dark behind his glasses.
--- ---
I was still seventeen when Rikku sat by the fire, and told stories of the Al Bhed as Wakka grumpily covered his ears.
"In the deep sea there are fiends larger than any on land," she said, eyes shining. "They are great and powerful, and we have several true stories of how they destroyed fleets of ships in rage. But when you're lucky and they're calm, they will only lie there and stare at you with their enormous eyes. They are down there for eternity, the grannies say, cursed."
"Eternity," I echoed, smiling.
She nodded. "We have many stories about eternity," Rikku said. "We live with it, in the machina. They work forever, and even when they break they're still there, reminding us."
"Do you believe that?"
she didn't answer me for a moment, smiling. "My people will always be the same."
"Your people will never change, but ours will?"
"We help make the world move," she said happily. "We are the world. I am part of eternity."
I was silent, because it never occured to me that immortality could be shared.
--- ---
I am older.
The world is different, and I don't know who's right.
He never spoke to me on the nature of eternity, and all I can think about is how he had an end.
I remember him, and I can see immortality.
Some things are forever.
I am not.
I was seven years old when my father became a god.
It is not as Kimahri intended to explain it to me, but it is what he said to a small, stone-faced child who could not accept that her father abandoned her for eternal glory.
"He is gone elsewhere."
"Where does he want to go without me?"
"Somewhere people will never scorn him again," Kimahri rumbled slowly.
"Why?"
"To save the world. He will be immortal. The people will bring offerings to his statues. They will remember his name forever."
Forever.
--- ---
I was ten years old when Lulu caught me a pyrefly, her hands forming a cage.
"Look, Yuna," she said in her dry voice. The flame of the pyrefly caust an aurora on the ashen skin that even the sun of Besaid could not warm.
"Doesn't it burn?" I asked.
"That's insignificant. The pain will go away."
I stared at the pyrefly. They are little different at a close range than from far away, but they are still glorious creations of light and color, with a center almost too brighth to look at. But they do not live long, confined. This one, this thing of insubstantial beauty, died.
"See, Yuna," said Lulu, shaking it indifferently from her hands. "It faded away, just as we humans do. We die. Nothing lasts forever."
I will, I said, but silently, as Lulu's eyes rose to follow Chappu as he turned to smile at her.
--- ---
I was fourteen years old when Wakka taught me to throw a blitzball through thirty yards of water, to beat half of the boys in Besaid in a race to go retrieve the ball, and to successfully retain the ball as the aforementioned half attempted to take it from me.
"There's a skill will last you forever," roared Wakka, well-pleased with himself, as we returned to the village.
At fourteen I had not yet undergone a growth spirt, and was still small of stature. I struggled to keep up with his long strides as the wet skirt my recently discovered self-conciousness had forced me to wear even into the water.
"Lulu says nothing lasts forever," I told him, just to be contrary.
A shadow crossed his features, and his broad, dark face was expressionless. "She's wrong. Can't we see that? Yevon guides us, always has and will."
I did not believe in Yevon as Wakka did, and he knew it.
"Memories are forever," he said, stopping and turning to face me. "They are how we live after death. It's how I see Chappu every day, still. Chappu is forever. We're all forever."
I will be eternal, I said silently, but Wakka's face was turned to the sun and he was done talking, and as he broke into a run he let loose a wild cry.
--- ---
I was seventeen years old, and Auron was sitting, blank-faced, by the fire.
"Tell me about my father," I told him.
"Braska was proud," Auron said, almost absently. "He was kind, too, and he was noble, but no one noticed he was so headstrong."
"You did." I was surprised at his unusual willingness to speak.
"I knew him better than anyone else, except maybe Jecht. When he fell in love with your mother, the world despised their union. He could not stand that anyone would presume to pass judgement, to expect him to act as they wished, so he married her partly out of spite."
"Did he ever speak of...immortality?" I asked, casually.
"All Braska could think of was the present," Auron said with more of his usual bluntness. "When the world abandoned him, he would not accept it. He would show the world his scorn for theirs. Nothing was more important than his pride."
I was silent.
"Immortality is a lie," he said, staring into the distance. "Thre is a life, and then nothing. I know."
There will be more, I said, but not aloud, because his fit of talkativeness ahd ceased and his eyes were dark behind his glasses.
--- ---
I was still seventeen when Rikku sat by the fire, and told stories of the Al Bhed as Wakka grumpily covered his ears.
"In the deep sea there are fiends larger than any on land," she said, eyes shining. "They are great and powerful, and we have several true stories of how they destroyed fleets of ships in rage. But when you're lucky and they're calm, they will only lie there and stare at you with their enormous eyes. They are down there for eternity, the grannies say, cursed."
"Eternity," I echoed, smiling.
She nodded. "We have many stories about eternity," Rikku said. "We live with it, in the machina. They work forever, and even when they break they're still there, reminding us."
"Do you believe that?"
she didn't answer me for a moment, smiling. "My people will always be the same."
"Your people will never change, but ours will?"
"We help make the world move," she said happily. "We are the world. I am part of eternity."
I was silent, because it never occured to me that immortality could be shared.
--- ---
I am older.
The world is different, and I don't know who's right.
He never spoke to me on the nature of eternity, and all I can think about is how he had an end.
I remember him, and I can see immortality.
Some things are forever.
I am not.