(i'll never be the same)
Title: Personal
Fandom: Baten Kaitos: Eternal Wings and the Lost Ocean / Baten Kaitos: Origins
Notes: ........this is a self-insert. But if you've experienced the fury of Baten Kaitos, you'll TOTALLY UNDERSTAND WHY.
also if you haven't experienced the fury of Baten Kaitos, go play it right now plskthx
Personal
Kalas had fooled himself, for a few brief moments, into thinking that saying goodbye to her would be difficult; that he might cry, or that someone might be upset in a way that would recursively upset the rest of them. But he had plenty of experience in the realm of fooling himself, and had an intimate knowledge of the tricks he played on his own mind. It would be easy to say goodbye to her, because she always made things easy. It was her nature. It was her duty.
(The thought has followed Sagi ever since their first tender contact. Sagi is young, but not stupid; he could be naïve, but was not unperceptive. Besides, you don’t share a body with a foreign soul without each catching on to secrets from the other.)
Yet there was an instant, as some unseen hand began to sever what bound them across worlds, when Kalas felt the emotion as a sword through his chest. He found himself imagining an old woman cutting a thread and it hurt, it hurt, as though he was losing more than just himself.
(He senses it when he asks her questions, and he already knows her answer. He senses it when her soft hum fades and she seems to be mourning - prematurely - for people and events for which Sagi ascribes no significance. When he subconsciously muses about things as the nature of gods and the state of the blasted earth, the tragedy of the long-lost ocean and the call of the white-winged darkness, on the hidden motives of Wiseman or Verus or Geldoblame, she is uncharacteristically silent. She knows.)
And for a moment, just as she disappeared, the pull on the thread jerked Kalas forward and he caught a glimpse of her world - of a sunny room, and a young woman sitting nearly motionless, her eyes bright with tears. The sight of his Guardian Spirit in a human form shocked him, as though what he was looking at was blasphemous. It made Kalas wonder if he had not been controlling her, but if she had controlled him; if he had never made a decision for himself, but if destiny had led them down a single path together; that there was a grand plan out there that had somehow included them all, on a deep and personal level.
(She knows. She knows because Guardian Spirits are unbound by time, and to her the entire world is nothing more than a book, or a game whose pieces may be arranged in any way at any time; she knows how it began and she knows how it will all end, whether happily or sadly, whether by heart or by poison; she knows his story intimately from his birth, and she knows - just as intimately, he is certain - how he will die.)
She had been, Kalas understood at that precise moment, his heart; he was a lifeless being otherwise, a void. He was something born from nothing, the corporeal without the incorporeal, a magnus without an essence. She was the exact opposite. He saw, then, the two of them walking hand-in-hand down a single straight path with a beginning and a very definite, rapidly approaching end.
(It won’t be an end for her, Sagi thinks, as he forges skyward. It will be a beginning. And the thought brings him to tears.)
Just like the thought, the moment was fleeting; the sunny room with the couch and the woman faded to black. Kalas was distantly aware (just as his world, too, began to fade away) of the soft sound of music addressing stars.
Fandom: Baten Kaitos: Eternal Wings and the Lost Ocean / Baten Kaitos: Origins
Notes: ........this is a self-insert. But if you've experienced the fury of Baten Kaitos, you'll TOTALLY UNDERSTAND WHY.
also if you haven't experienced the fury of Baten Kaitos, go play it right now plskthx
Personal
Kalas had fooled himself, for a few brief moments, into thinking that saying goodbye to her would be difficult; that he might cry, or that someone might be upset in a way that would recursively upset the rest of them. But he had plenty of experience in the realm of fooling himself, and had an intimate knowledge of the tricks he played on his own mind. It would be easy to say goodbye to her, because she always made things easy. It was her nature. It was her duty.
(The thought has followed Sagi ever since their first tender contact. Sagi is young, but not stupid; he could be naïve, but was not unperceptive. Besides, you don’t share a body with a foreign soul without each catching on to secrets from the other.)
Yet there was an instant, as some unseen hand began to sever what bound them across worlds, when Kalas felt the emotion as a sword through his chest. He found himself imagining an old woman cutting a thread and it hurt, it hurt, as though he was losing more than just himself.
(He senses it when he asks her questions, and he already knows her answer. He senses it when her soft hum fades and she seems to be mourning - prematurely - for people and events for which Sagi ascribes no significance. When he subconsciously muses about things as the nature of gods and the state of the blasted earth, the tragedy of the long-lost ocean and the call of the white-winged darkness, on the hidden motives of Wiseman or Verus or Geldoblame, she is uncharacteristically silent. She knows.)
And for a moment, just as she disappeared, the pull on the thread jerked Kalas forward and he caught a glimpse of her world - of a sunny room, and a young woman sitting nearly motionless, her eyes bright with tears. The sight of his Guardian Spirit in a human form shocked him, as though what he was looking at was blasphemous. It made Kalas wonder if he had not been controlling her, but if she had controlled him; if he had never made a decision for himself, but if destiny had led them down a single path together; that there was a grand plan out there that had somehow included them all, on a deep and personal level.
(She knows. She knows because Guardian Spirits are unbound by time, and to her the entire world is nothing more than a book, or a game whose pieces may be arranged in any way at any time; she knows how it began and she knows how it will all end, whether happily or sadly, whether by heart or by poison; she knows his story intimately from his birth, and she knows - just as intimately, he is certain - how he will die.)
She had been, Kalas understood at that precise moment, his heart; he was a lifeless being otherwise, a void. He was something born from nothing, the corporeal without the incorporeal, a magnus without an essence. She was the exact opposite. He saw, then, the two of them walking hand-in-hand down a single straight path with a beginning and a very definite, rapidly approaching end.
(It won’t be an end for her, Sagi thinks, as he forges skyward. It will be a beginning. And the thought brings him to tears.)
Just like the thought, the moment was fleeting; the sunny room with the couch and the woman faded to black. Kalas was distantly aware (just as his world, too, began to fade away) of the soft sound of music addressing stars.