Final Fantasy VI - And rise the blade of the Sun
Title: And rise the blade of the Sun.
Author: Shaded Mazoku.
Part: 1/1.
Disclaimer: FFVI and its characters and setting belong to Square Enix. Exalted and its setting is the property of White Wolf. Nothing but this idea is mine.
Warnings: Mind-games.
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: In the face of strife, there is strength to be found.
Character/pairing(s): Leo, Terra, Kefka.
Fandom: Final Fantasy VI/Exalted fusion.
Words: 2016.
Notes: So, a while back, I had a plot idea that dropped FFVI characters into the world of Exalted, a tabletop RPG I love. I'm not going into the whole setting, because that'd take forever, but the basis of this idea is that the Solar exalted are chosen by the sun god to be his warriors in the world. The Lunar exalted are the same for the moon goddess. They're supposed to protect the world from all the nasty shit. Then there's the Abyssal exalted. They're corrupted Solars who work to destroy pretty much everything. There's a bunch of other exalts, too, and lots more stuff, but yeah. More notes after the fic.
"You know, it's the strangest thing. Remember that storm we had a while back? Well, I had to go out and look for my cow. The damn beast had torn loose again, and I followed her towards that creepy old forest, and I swear I saw a girl there, just sitting on a rock, but when I got a little closer, she was gone."
The listeners laughed, dismissing the story as the ramblings of a drunken man. It had been a bad storm, but they always had bad storms this close to calibration, and there was nothing new about it. There was no need to frighten people with stories like that, they said, snickering.
One listener wasn't among the laughing ones, though.
He rose to his feet, ignoring the way people looked at him as he walked to the door of the in, heading out into the cold night. The town was small and private, and he was used to being treated as the outsider, despite having lived in the village since he had been ten, brought here by his father moving back to his birthplace. The strange, foreign-looking child had grown to a strange, foreign-looking man, taking over his father's farm as the old man could no longer run it himself.
Three years ago, his father had died, and he'd been alone since, nobody willing to deal much with an outsider. It didn't really matter much to him. This was his home, and he'd work to supply the village, even if they never acknowledged his work. His father had raised him to do his best, no matter what.
As he walked along the dirt road leading to his small farm, something caught his eye, flickering just within his field of vision. Looking up, he saw a figure walking across the moors near the forest the drunken man had talked about. It was hard to tell from that distance, but it certainly looked like a girl.
Something in him demanded he follow, so he did, veering off his path and walking towards the forest. The girl's form seemed to flicker and fade, only to appear fully again in the next moment, and he knew he shouldn't get involved, but he needed to know.
Outside the forest, the girl paused and turned to face him, eyes wide.
She'd been beautiful in life, he thought, but maybe she was even more so in death, her beauty an ephemeral and unearthly thing, like the fair folk of the stories, and she didn't seem a hungry ghost, just a lingering spirit who had yet to find relese. He wondered if her hair had been tinged with green in life as well, or if that was a trait of the spirit world.
There was a dark collar of bruises around her neck, formed like a twisted rope.
The sudden realisation was as though someone had just poured a basin of ice water on his head. For a moment, he was distracted, and when he focused again, the girl was gone as though she had never been there, no trace of her anywhere.
He blinked, then shook his head. It was better that way. Following the dead caused nothing but needless despair and agony.
Despite knowing that, though, he found himself walking closer to the forest's entrance, as though called by something. For a long while, he stood there, just staring into the dark, until the sound of laughter caught his ears. It sounded like it came from above him, so he lifted his head and peered up into the trees.
There was a figure sitting on a branch a few yards above his head, legs dangling off of the perch. It wasn't the girl he'd followed. Where she had been intangible and unreal, the person in the tree seemed a bit too real, the colours of its bright clothing too vivid in the dark of the night. Upon realising it had a watcher, the person climbed down from its perch with amazing speed and agility, coming closer to face him.
The person was male, it seemed, though small and almost delicate, with sharp and graceful features marred by a lack of skin tone, and by the red paint that formed patterns around his pale eyes and made his lips seem wider than they could possibly be. He wore a fine-looking cloak that seemed green until it shifted, many colours dancing across the surface as it did, like the colour of a dragonfly, over ink-black garments that seemed to fade into the shadows.
"You shouldn't be out here," he said and his voice was lilting, sing-song tone caressing each word.
The villager shivered, though he wasn't sure why.
The stranger chuckled, his laughter sending shivers down his spine. "Followed my pet, did you? How brave!" His voice was delighted, as though he found it all a brilliant joke. "Do you have a name?"
"Father called me Lion," came the reply, the other straightening up and looking down at the strange and colourful man. "After creatures he saw when he was travelling the south."
The stranger laughed in delight. "Lion!" he exclaimed, his near-white eyes wandering Lion's form. "Yes, that is appropriate, isn't it?"
Lion wondered who he was talking to, because he knew it wasn't him. Maybe the ghost girl still lingered nearby, listening. Maybe the stranger was addled of mind. He didn't know, and it wasn't his place to comment.
"Lion," the man said again, and smiled. "I like that." His teeth were too sharp to be normal. "They call me many things. Some call me demon. Some call me monster. She called me her nightmare." He waved his hand as the ghost girl appeared and faded away, all within a moment.
"I am called the Light of Judgement," the stranger said, smiling. "The Destroyer of Hope and Dreams."
He met Lion's eyes and for a moment, his eyes seemed to gleam black.
"Call me what you will. In the end, it doesn't matter. Nothing matters."
Lion took a step backwards, turning towards the village for a moment. As he blinked, the man who called himself the Light of Judgement was in front of him, his long hair flowing in the wind. The ghost girl faded into being at his side, her colours becoming more solid as though the ground was bleeding onto her.
"Do you like my pretty toy?" the Light of Judgement asked, turning to smile that creepy smile of his at Lion again. "I found her in the bordermarches, protecting the few people left in a raided village. She didn't want to come with me at first, not until I broke her. Now she's always with me."
"What do you want here?" Lion asked, staring at the two strange and inhuman creatures who both seemed to glow in the moonlight.
The Light of Judgement looked surprised at the question for a moment, then laughed, a high-pitched and cold noise that seemed to linger in the air for a long time afterwards.
"Your village is a quiet, restful place, isn't it?" He bared sharp teeth again in a terrifying smile. "I will tear it apart and burn it all to the ground until nothing remains but ash and bones."
When Lion grabbed for him in desperation, he was no longer there, nor was the girl who wasn't the ghost she seemed to be. Only his laugh lingered, and Lion began running towards the village, intent on warning the people.
Before he reached the village walls, what seemed to be tendrils of molten rock rose from the ground, destroying everything in their wake and igniting fires that spread quickly through the straw-roof buildings that formed most of the village. The tendrils tore through the town as though it was made from paper.
Lion hurried to the wreckage of the blacksmith's home and managed to find a metal rod that wasn't yet heated too much to touch, and looked around. The tendrils were slashing and tearing at random, it seemed, focused mainly on destruction. People were running out of their homes in panic, gathering near the well, the only area that seemed to be left alone by the tendrils.
Something kept Lion from going to join them, and he hid as well he could as the Light of Judgement came strolling into the village as though nothing was wrong. The not-ghost girl was at his side, and as Lion watched, he leaned in and told her something, nodding towards where the people were gathered. She closed her eyes and lifted her hands, and before Lion could do anything to stop it, thousands of razor-sharp and glittering black objects tore through the crowd, leaving nobody standing.
Only one managed to crawl out of the carnage alive, a young child who had probably been spared because his parents had shielded him. The Light of Judgement smiled as he saw the crawling child and reached out with his hand, his claws gleaming a deep red in the moonlight.
Lion stopped thinking and acted, charging the brightly clad man with his metal rod. He wasn't really surprised when the man laughed and stopped him with a simple motion, the rod digging into Lion's stomach as he was abruptly brought to a halt.
"You can't hurt me," the Light of Judgement all but purred, his voice tinted with more than a little amusement.
"I know," Lion replied, surprised at how clear things were. "But these are my people, and it's my duty to protect and defend them, even in the face of enemies far stronger than I am. If I am to die fighting for them, I will accept that willingly."
The man laughed again. "You will fight me for the sake of a crippled child, a burning village and a bunch of corpses? Aren't you afraid of me, then?"
Lion met his eyes and shifted his weight, moving to stand in front of the whimpering youth. "Yes, I am," he admitted, drawing himself up to his full height and ignoring the pain where the rod had dug through his skin. "But I will not let fear drive me from my path!"
"So be it," the Light of Judgement agreed. "A shame, really." Flames started forming around his outstretched hand, the fingers still on the metal rod.
Lion prepared himself, feeling oddly peaceful despite the situation. Before long, it felt as though his very soul was burning like the sun itself, blazing within him and burning away impurities like smelting did to steel. Lion opened his eyes, ready to meet his death face on.
The Light of Judgement had stepped back, though, the expression on his face one of surprise.
Though he still burned, Lion didn't hurt, he realised. In fact, he felt better than ever, despite the fire in his veins. Light was coming off him in waves, reflecting in the shiny fabric of the Light of Judgement's outfit.
Eventually, the fire in his veins died down, though he still glowed. Lion took a step forwards, towards the man who had razed his home, then another.
The Light of Judgement sighed. "This isn't fun any more," he said, sounding rather petulant. "You can have the remains, for this time. Maybe we'll meet again when you've learned, yes?" He chuckled and grabbed the not-ghost's wrist. She shifted, going smaller until she was a green and silver serpent, coiled around his arm. "If you become strong, I'll come for you. She's not as fun as she was. You'll make a great new toy, if broken properly."
"But not now," he continued. "Become a challenge first. Shake the world up a bit, make a ruckus, and I'll come for you."
He turned and began walking. "You could come after me now, I suppose, but then the child will die."
Lion let him go.
There would be time to find him later, when he was prepared.
Then they would see who would be the one breaking.
*
Just some clarification here. Kefka is a Moonshadow caste Abyssal who has done what Abyssals do best and messed up Terra's mind. I considered making him an Infernal exalted, but they're more for "run the world our (and the Big Fucking Demons Yozi's) way" while the Abyssals have more of the "I will destroy everything!" outlook. Terra is a No Moon caste Lunar with some sort of martial arts that lets her be intangible, possibly Quicksilver Hand of Dreams or something Wyld-related. She's also Feyblooded, part Fair Folk (creepy nasty dream-eating fairies who aren't quite real.) Leo is a newly exalted Dawn caste Solar who just got himself a Nemesis background.
Author: Shaded Mazoku.
Part: 1/1.
Disclaimer: FFVI and its characters and setting belong to Square Enix. Exalted and its setting is the property of White Wolf. Nothing but this idea is mine.
Warnings: Mind-games.
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: In the face of strife, there is strength to be found.
Character/pairing(s): Leo, Terra, Kefka.
Fandom: Final Fantasy VI/Exalted fusion.
Words: 2016.
Notes: So, a while back, I had a plot idea that dropped FFVI characters into the world of Exalted, a tabletop RPG I love. I'm not going into the whole setting, because that'd take forever, but the basis of this idea is that the Solar exalted are chosen by the sun god to be his warriors in the world. The Lunar exalted are the same for the moon goddess. They're supposed to protect the world from all the nasty shit. Then there's the Abyssal exalted. They're corrupted Solars who work to destroy pretty much everything. There's a bunch of other exalts, too, and lots more stuff, but yeah. More notes after the fic.
"You know, it's the strangest thing. Remember that storm we had a while back? Well, I had to go out and look for my cow. The damn beast had torn loose again, and I followed her towards that creepy old forest, and I swear I saw a girl there, just sitting on a rock, but when I got a little closer, she was gone."
The listeners laughed, dismissing the story as the ramblings of a drunken man. It had been a bad storm, but they always had bad storms this close to calibration, and there was nothing new about it. There was no need to frighten people with stories like that, they said, snickering.
One listener wasn't among the laughing ones, though.
He rose to his feet, ignoring the way people looked at him as he walked to the door of the in, heading out into the cold night. The town was small and private, and he was used to being treated as the outsider, despite having lived in the village since he had been ten, brought here by his father moving back to his birthplace. The strange, foreign-looking child had grown to a strange, foreign-looking man, taking over his father's farm as the old man could no longer run it himself.
Three years ago, his father had died, and he'd been alone since, nobody willing to deal much with an outsider. It didn't really matter much to him. This was his home, and he'd work to supply the village, even if they never acknowledged his work. His father had raised him to do his best, no matter what.
As he walked along the dirt road leading to his small farm, something caught his eye, flickering just within his field of vision. Looking up, he saw a figure walking across the moors near the forest the drunken man had talked about. It was hard to tell from that distance, but it certainly looked like a girl.
Something in him demanded he follow, so he did, veering off his path and walking towards the forest. The girl's form seemed to flicker and fade, only to appear fully again in the next moment, and he knew he shouldn't get involved, but he needed to know.
Outside the forest, the girl paused and turned to face him, eyes wide.
She'd been beautiful in life, he thought, but maybe she was even more so in death, her beauty an ephemeral and unearthly thing, like the fair folk of the stories, and she didn't seem a hungry ghost, just a lingering spirit who had yet to find relese. He wondered if her hair had been tinged with green in life as well, or if that was a trait of the spirit world.
There was a dark collar of bruises around her neck, formed like a twisted rope.
The sudden realisation was as though someone had just poured a basin of ice water on his head. For a moment, he was distracted, and when he focused again, the girl was gone as though she had never been there, no trace of her anywhere.
He blinked, then shook his head. It was better that way. Following the dead caused nothing but needless despair and agony.
Despite knowing that, though, he found himself walking closer to the forest's entrance, as though called by something. For a long while, he stood there, just staring into the dark, until the sound of laughter caught his ears. It sounded like it came from above him, so he lifted his head and peered up into the trees.
There was a figure sitting on a branch a few yards above his head, legs dangling off of the perch. It wasn't the girl he'd followed. Where she had been intangible and unreal, the person in the tree seemed a bit too real, the colours of its bright clothing too vivid in the dark of the night. Upon realising it had a watcher, the person climbed down from its perch with amazing speed and agility, coming closer to face him.
The person was male, it seemed, though small and almost delicate, with sharp and graceful features marred by a lack of skin tone, and by the red paint that formed patterns around his pale eyes and made his lips seem wider than they could possibly be. He wore a fine-looking cloak that seemed green until it shifted, many colours dancing across the surface as it did, like the colour of a dragonfly, over ink-black garments that seemed to fade into the shadows.
"You shouldn't be out here," he said and his voice was lilting, sing-song tone caressing each word.
The villager shivered, though he wasn't sure why.
The stranger chuckled, his laughter sending shivers down his spine. "Followed my pet, did you? How brave!" His voice was delighted, as though he found it all a brilliant joke. "Do you have a name?"
"Father called me Lion," came the reply, the other straightening up and looking down at the strange and colourful man. "After creatures he saw when he was travelling the south."
The stranger laughed in delight. "Lion!" he exclaimed, his near-white eyes wandering Lion's form. "Yes, that is appropriate, isn't it?"
Lion wondered who he was talking to, because he knew it wasn't him. Maybe the ghost girl still lingered nearby, listening. Maybe the stranger was addled of mind. He didn't know, and it wasn't his place to comment.
"Lion," the man said again, and smiled. "I like that." His teeth were too sharp to be normal. "They call me many things. Some call me demon. Some call me monster. She called me her nightmare." He waved his hand as the ghost girl appeared and faded away, all within a moment.
"I am called the Light of Judgement," the stranger said, smiling. "The Destroyer of Hope and Dreams."
He met Lion's eyes and for a moment, his eyes seemed to gleam black.
"Call me what you will. In the end, it doesn't matter. Nothing matters."
Lion took a step backwards, turning towards the village for a moment. As he blinked, the man who called himself the Light of Judgement was in front of him, his long hair flowing in the wind. The ghost girl faded into being at his side, her colours becoming more solid as though the ground was bleeding onto her.
"Do you like my pretty toy?" the Light of Judgement asked, turning to smile that creepy smile of his at Lion again. "I found her in the bordermarches, protecting the few people left in a raided village. She didn't want to come with me at first, not until I broke her. Now she's always with me."
"What do you want here?" Lion asked, staring at the two strange and inhuman creatures who both seemed to glow in the moonlight.
The Light of Judgement looked surprised at the question for a moment, then laughed, a high-pitched and cold noise that seemed to linger in the air for a long time afterwards.
"Your village is a quiet, restful place, isn't it?" He bared sharp teeth again in a terrifying smile. "I will tear it apart and burn it all to the ground until nothing remains but ash and bones."
When Lion grabbed for him in desperation, he was no longer there, nor was the girl who wasn't the ghost she seemed to be. Only his laugh lingered, and Lion began running towards the village, intent on warning the people.
Before he reached the village walls, what seemed to be tendrils of molten rock rose from the ground, destroying everything in their wake and igniting fires that spread quickly through the straw-roof buildings that formed most of the village. The tendrils tore through the town as though it was made from paper.
Lion hurried to the wreckage of the blacksmith's home and managed to find a metal rod that wasn't yet heated too much to touch, and looked around. The tendrils were slashing and tearing at random, it seemed, focused mainly on destruction. People were running out of their homes in panic, gathering near the well, the only area that seemed to be left alone by the tendrils.
Something kept Lion from going to join them, and he hid as well he could as the Light of Judgement came strolling into the village as though nothing was wrong. The not-ghost girl was at his side, and as Lion watched, he leaned in and told her something, nodding towards where the people were gathered. She closed her eyes and lifted her hands, and before Lion could do anything to stop it, thousands of razor-sharp and glittering black objects tore through the crowd, leaving nobody standing.
Only one managed to crawl out of the carnage alive, a young child who had probably been spared because his parents had shielded him. The Light of Judgement smiled as he saw the crawling child and reached out with his hand, his claws gleaming a deep red in the moonlight.
Lion stopped thinking and acted, charging the brightly clad man with his metal rod. He wasn't really surprised when the man laughed and stopped him with a simple motion, the rod digging into Lion's stomach as he was abruptly brought to a halt.
"You can't hurt me," the Light of Judgement all but purred, his voice tinted with more than a little amusement.
"I know," Lion replied, surprised at how clear things were. "But these are my people, and it's my duty to protect and defend them, even in the face of enemies far stronger than I am. If I am to die fighting for them, I will accept that willingly."
The man laughed again. "You will fight me for the sake of a crippled child, a burning village and a bunch of corpses? Aren't you afraid of me, then?"
Lion met his eyes and shifted his weight, moving to stand in front of the whimpering youth. "Yes, I am," he admitted, drawing himself up to his full height and ignoring the pain where the rod had dug through his skin. "But I will not let fear drive me from my path!"
"So be it," the Light of Judgement agreed. "A shame, really." Flames started forming around his outstretched hand, the fingers still on the metal rod.
Lion prepared himself, feeling oddly peaceful despite the situation. Before long, it felt as though his very soul was burning like the sun itself, blazing within him and burning away impurities like smelting did to steel. Lion opened his eyes, ready to meet his death face on.
The Light of Judgement had stepped back, though, the expression on his face one of surprise.
Though he still burned, Lion didn't hurt, he realised. In fact, he felt better than ever, despite the fire in his veins. Light was coming off him in waves, reflecting in the shiny fabric of the Light of Judgement's outfit.
Eventually, the fire in his veins died down, though he still glowed. Lion took a step forwards, towards the man who had razed his home, then another.
The Light of Judgement sighed. "This isn't fun any more," he said, sounding rather petulant. "You can have the remains, for this time. Maybe we'll meet again when you've learned, yes?" He chuckled and grabbed the not-ghost's wrist. She shifted, going smaller until she was a green and silver serpent, coiled around his arm. "If you become strong, I'll come for you. She's not as fun as she was. You'll make a great new toy, if broken properly."
"But not now," he continued. "Become a challenge first. Shake the world up a bit, make a ruckus, and I'll come for you."
He turned and began walking. "You could come after me now, I suppose, but then the child will die."
Lion let him go.
There would be time to find him later, when he was prepared.
Then they would see who would be the one breaking.
*
Just some clarification here. Kefka is a Moonshadow caste Abyssal who has done what Abyssals do best and messed up Terra's mind. I considered making him an Infernal exalted, but they're more for "run the world our (and the Big Fucking Demons Yozi's) way" while the Abyssals have more of the "I will destroy everything!" outlook. Terra is a No Moon caste Lunar with some sort of martial arts that lets her be intangible, possibly Quicksilver Hand of Dreams or something Wyld-related. She's also Feyblooded, part Fair Folk (creepy nasty dream-eating fairies who aren't quite real.) Leo is a newly exalted Dawn caste Solar who just got himself a Nemesis background.