Reposted for convenience
Title:A Song Played On Muted Stings
Fandom: Final Fantasy X
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Auron/Lulu
Warnings:Excessive poetics.
All feedback welcomed.
-Melody-
Ixion. The lightning stallion. Not a simple beast. He studied the arch of its horn, trimming away slivers cautiously, his thumb guiding the small blade expertly. They say this one was a sailor, a captain with some renown and honor in his day. A sad irony, then, that a man so taken by the sea in his life should commit (some say commited, some say stolen) his spirit to its opposing force.
Since laying down the sword, Auron had taken to carving the likenesses of the aeons from the native Besaid lumber. Intended for the roadside shrines around the island, the carvings earned him no gil. However, Auron never cared for gil and the islanders were too happy to have a supposed legend in their midst to ever allow him to compensate them for use of the hut. They'd offer to put their beloved hero up in a palace, if he'd ever agree to let them build it.
There. That would be acceptable. Cleaning the sawdust from the figurine with a huff, he placed the horse gingerly in its place next to the three others like it on the mantel. Tool maintenance next. After that, Valefor. He pulled the waterstone near, sprinkling half a handful of water over it so that red surface of the brick glistened. Auron paused, chisel aloft. The sun had filtered in through the fabric door just enough. He could see his face reflected, in the thin film of still water. He frowned.
What would the obedient, devout young monk think of this old man? Or the hard-headed, devoted guardian? Was the lethargic, dulled gaze better suited to his face than his former tight-jawed scowl? Not that this face resembled much the visage of his younger days; on this calm island of few threats, he had let the sword-heaving muscles fall slack and had grown gaunt in all the wrong places. Grey dappled his dark hair at the temples now and became more noticeable with each day. He would have glared at his reflection if his eyes could conjure the intensity anymore -as it were, they sat shallow and muted, as appealing as two dried-up mud puddles. Ugly. He thrust the chisel at his waterstone, breaking the unwelcomed mirror into chaotic concentric circles. Diligently, he set to sharpening, scraping the blade across the stone which sent up a hoarse whining sound that had always made him grimace. The little grey trails left behind contrasted starkly with the clay-red stone.
Some things are made more useful by deconstruction.
Better. Sharper.
Startled at the sound of a frantic rustling and someone breathing hard behind him, his hand jerked and the wet edge of the blade went into his index finger as he glanced behind him. The obnoxious neighbor boy, son of a local fisherman, peered into the hut, pale copper hair damp on his forehead. Damnit. Seven or eight years ago Auron was a guardian and could not be caught unaware --anything more than a dead leaf falling a full three yards away would not have escaped notice. "Hey Sir Guardian, you making stuff?" Once Auron would have winced at the undeserved and obsolete titles, but he'd since grown complacent and the words since cheapened. "You should make us some swords someday. Or nun chucks," The boy continued breathlessly, "Anyway, I just come by to tell you that Lady Ginnem kicked the bucket and Lulu's back in town."
The boy left, loudly bringing the news to the next hut down, leaving the heavy cloth of the entrance to swing closed. Auron kept his eyes on the curtain for a while, noting every breeze that caused the thick weave to shudder, disregarding the stinging pain in his finger of which he had become dimly aware.
Ginnem's dead.
Lulu’s returned.
So the dead return.
A crumbling tremor of sorts seized his stomach and chest. Auron was a pessimist. As such, he had long accepted Lulu as gone the day he watched her boat leave until it winked out below the horizon of the sea. If not dead (Braska), then gone -unreachable (Jecht).
No. She was alive. And she’d returned.
Auron gazed at his hand. The laceration was not so serious, but it was deep and wide and not clotting. He would need to tend to it, eventually. It had muddied the dirt floor in neat circles -like the first few raindrops at the beginning of a rainstorm.
He had thought about her, when she was gone. He had dreamt about her. In her absence, there was no need for shame. Now-- he was not certain.
Auron idly considered how one might gradually bleed to death through such an insignificant wound, with the body constantly regenerating itself. As slow as life? No. More likely to die of infection than blood loss with this one.
He couldn’t avoid her. Not on this tiny island, with its huts assembled in a cramped, communal fashion. With a furtive lift of a curtain, any given inhabitant might be able to see when one left their dwelling and easily discern to what manner of business they were attending.
He did not leave his hut that day.
-Key-
Auron always found a certain prayerful kindness in the sea at night.
Careful to avoid disturbing his bandaged finger, he unlaced his boots and slid his feet out, one by one, the slight spray moistening his toes. It was upon these moldy boards that he had taken his first step onto the island, eight years prior.
With Braska. And Jecht.
At the thought of his old friends, a distant whale called with a ghostly song. He gave a dour smirk at the expanse of water made visible by moonlight. "I'm sorry I failed you, Jecht. I still believe your Zanarkand is out there. I am not the man to find it. Forgive me."
He closed his eyes, then, and spoke with his heart. Yuna's safe here. Happy and safe. She's training in midwifery. A life-bringer. She'll live the peaceful live you'd hoped. I only regret that I could not do more, my lord.
Her voice behind him was soft. But it was not the waves against the shore, or the wind rattling the palms and thus it was immediately discernible. “This dock hasn't been used for eight years. I thought I was the only one who remembered it.” His heart fell like a rotten fruit. “You know why they don't, right?” Her voice became louder with every step nearer. She stood behind him now. Auron had not looked at her yet. “Perhaps not, you weren't here.” She sat beside him and Auron could not help but see her white hands, gesturing, in his peripheral vision. “Two children. Killed by a garuda while swimming in the shallow waters here.” She laughed sharply and unexpectedly. “Rather than dealing with the problem and simply hunting the fiend down, they took the trouble to move the entire dock and fishing operation to the opposite side of the island, farther away from the village yet. I always thought that foolish, but no-one here ever agreed with me.”
Auron turned his face away from her but her presence was upon him like the sun. “I could have agreed with that, once. But it continues.” He spoke quickly, vaguely addressing the sea rather than the girl beside him.
“What...?”
He turned to her, his eyes hooded in moonshadow. “Lulu, I am sorry. Losing one’s summoner is--”
“Sorry. Everyone says sorry. Don’t apologize if you’re not at fault.” She cut her words wearily.
In his last act, Braska had cast curaga on his youngest guardian with a noble smile on his face. Despite the sinister fanfare that accompanied the holy ritual -the seizing ground, the shrill whistling and snapping bright rudeness of the pyrefly swarm, Auron had witnessed it, lucid and livid. His lord's --his friend's life was over with all the poetry of a cold water droplet upon a hot wood stove. The summoner burst into sparks that swirled and wrapped around Jecht, layer upon layer, a silvery cocoon. He heard his ally -his friend, screaming from within, his low frequency clear and deep amongst the whining supernatural din.
They were not screams of pain. Nor were they screams of terror or grief. They were jangling crows of one gripped and mangled by power. The coronation of a corrupt king.
The survivor fell to his knees, heavier than tears. He should have done better. He should have done differently.
He said nothing.
“I'm the one to be sorry,” She lowered her voice. “No-one else. I was overconfident.”
“Perhaps she overestimated you.”
Lulu gaped at him. “When I was returning --when I was on the ship, you know what my thoughts were? I thought, of all people, Auron would understand. He's done this before, he's been a guardian, he's lost a summoner...and I thought about how I was lucky to know you, to have someone in Besaid I could--”
He shivered.
“I...have been through these things, yes. But I cannot process them. I have no wisdom for you, Lulu.”.
His right hand was on her left shoulder, trembling. She placed her right hand over his. His first instinct was to pull it away, but then...she smiled slightly, sad-eyed.
“You know, I remember when you first came here. It was on this dock. I waited for your boat, because I knew it was coming. Summoners came here all the time back then, a new batch every month or so, but I greeted everyone. Wakka was so jealous later that he'd missed meeting the High Summoner and his guardians. Do you remember me, from that day? I remember it.”
“...with Braska...” He said slowly, flatly.
“And Jecht. And I don't understand how you put up with him for so long--” In the dim glow of the moon, she could see memories working in his eyes. “You don't remember?”
“I remember you when I returned with Yuna. I remember how took her in, how dependable and devoted you were. I remember how I respected you. You were more of an adult than I could be for Yuna.”
“You were in a bad way, then.”
“You are stronger than me.”
“No. I'm not, Auron.” Her voice cracked and she began to weep.
He drew her close and thought of his summoner, his heart twisting and making him ill. The river kept rising and the rains would not cease. Years of unvoiced words and untaken actions had him worn down. The banks had eroded.
And in that moment, with her scent rising rising to his eyes, it flowed over.
Uncontrolled, flooding them both.
It was of a natural force.
He spoke, his words rising to the surface and busting like bubbles. “I remember when I fell in love with you.”
And so the warrior stood, raised up to his full height on the edge of the gorge. And so he released his sword and shield with a resounding clang that slapped across the crevice. And so as the arms were finally no more, the man was no longer a warrior.
-Harmony-
"You know, I never really believed you'd make it back to us. But I should have known better than to doubt the Legendary Sir Auron. That's what they're calling you these days, you know --Legendary Guardian to High Summoner Braska. This is something to tell the grandkids. By Yevon, this is something my great-great-grandkids will be telling their grandkids --old gramps Kinoc chummed around with the The Sir Auron! You know the Brotherhood wants you to return, right? They're ready too forget this whole business with Father Milo's daughter. Bygones be bygones and all that. They want to make you commander -you'd have a whole career ahead of you."
Kinoc never did understand what brought Auron to Besaid --Yevon bless him, his old friend had never been rich in empathy. Auron left behind the last of his spirit in Zanarkand; some manner of futile vigil to Braska's corpse and Jecht's guttering soul. He remembered the night well, steely-cold and iron-black, blasting through fiends in a teary rage. The flame of life extinguished; hope and love were no longer his to hold.
And yet. Here he was, on the dock with this girl -this woman, heart pliant to her every breath.
Lulu blinked at him, her voice sandy with tears and surprise. "You fell in love with me?"
With her so utterly in the here-and-now, with her near enough to feel her radiant warmth on his face, Auron needled with regret. "I-I...I need to leave."
Lulu grabbed the long dark braid along his spine and tugged, anchoring him. "No." Her voice was hardening back into her dark, slightly teasing alto. Auron shivered as the skin at the base of his neck goosefleshed. "I'm not going to let you go with that."
"Lulu, I am an idiot, an old man..." Lulu clapped a hand over his mouth, firmly. Auron jerked in surprise.
"Auron, you're 32. I'm 20. I'm not a child. And you," She paused and let the braid slip from her hand as she traced the contour of his cheek. "are no old man."
Auron gripped her wrist delicately between his thumb and index finger to pull her hand away from his face, but made no effort to move off the dock. He turned his head away from her, stray hairs wildly haloing his head in silver.
And so the two sat like that for a while and in their silence the ocean grew louder. I will love her as you loved the world, my Lord.
"Lulu, are you certain?"
"Yes. Auron, I--. You know, Ginnem. She always talked about the afterward. Did Braska do that?" Lulu continued without pausing for an answer. "She said she was going to retire to a little cottage on the edge of the Calm Lands and keep bees. And we'd laugh at the thought of her in a beekeeper's veil. And then she asked me if I was going to return to Besaid and I said no. I meant it, too. I didn't want to come back here. I didn't want to leave this world I was just discovering and go back to this desolate little island. So I said I'd deliver her honey to the edges of Spira. I wanted nothing but the edges of Spira. But then, after the Cavern of the Stolen Fayth --all I wanted was to return here. To Chappu, Yuna, Wakka and you." Her voice threatened to break again as she set her sharp chin upon his shoulder "Especially you."
Quavering now, he lay a hand upon her head and gently worked his fingers into her braids. He had been strong once. No more.
"I love you."
The lovers leaned into a kiss, the sea sighing a chorus behind them.
Two trembling bodies, born again to the earth as though they'd dropped from the moon, speaking only in the language of lovers. And so they stayed, body touching body until the syrupy light of dawn brought the morning into them and as with the rest of the world. It brought back the songbirds with their morning melodies and it brought back the laughing children with their blitzballs and best moves. As for the lovers, it brought back hope, love and life.
By that afternoon Sin had destroyed two villages. They say the death toll was over a thousand.
Fandom: Final Fantasy X
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Auron/Lulu
Warnings:Excessive poetics.
All feedback welcomed.
-Melody-
Ixion. The lightning stallion. Not a simple beast. He studied the arch of its horn, trimming away slivers cautiously, his thumb guiding the small blade expertly. They say this one was a sailor, a captain with some renown and honor in his day. A sad irony, then, that a man so taken by the sea in his life should commit (some say commited, some say stolen) his spirit to its opposing force.
Since laying down the sword, Auron had taken to carving the likenesses of the aeons from the native Besaid lumber. Intended for the roadside shrines around the island, the carvings earned him no gil. However, Auron never cared for gil and the islanders were too happy to have a supposed legend in their midst to ever allow him to compensate them for use of the hut. They'd offer to put their beloved hero up in a palace, if he'd ever agree to let them build it.
There. That would be acceptable. Cleaning the sawdust from the figurine with a huff, he placed the horse gingerly in its place next to the three others like it on the mantel. Tool maintenance next. After that, Valefor. He pulled the waterstone near, sprinkling half a handful of water over it so that red surface of the brick glistened. Auron paused, chisel aloft. The sun had filtered in through the fabric door just enough. He could see his face reflected, in the thin film of still water. He frowned.
What would the obedient, devout young monk think of this old man? Or the hard-headed, devoted guardian? Was the lethargic, dulled gaze better suited to his face than his former tight-jawed scowl? Not that this face resembled much the visage of his younger days; on this calm island of few threats, he had let the sword-heaving muscles fall slack and had grown gaunt in all the wrong places. Grey dappled his dark hair at the temples now and became more noticeable with each day. He would have glared at his reflection if his eyes could conjure the intensity anymore -as it were, they sat shallow and muted, as appealing as two dried-up mud puddles. Ugly. He thrust the chisel at his waterstone, breaking the unwelcomed mirror into chaotic concentric circles. Diligently, he set to sharpening, scraping the blade across the stone which sent up a hoarse whining sound that had always made him grimace. The little grey trails left behind contrasted starkly with the clay-red stone.
Some things are made more useful by deconstruction.
Better. Sharper.
Startled at the sound of a frantic rustling and someone breathing hard behind him, his hand jerked and the wet edge of the blade went into his index finger as he glanced behind him. The obnoxious neighbor boy, son of a local fisherman, peered into the hut, pale copper hair damp on his forehead. Damnit. Seven or eight years ago Auron was a guardian and could not be caught unaware --anything more than a dead leaf falling a full three yards away would not have escaped notice. "Hey Sir Guardian, you making stuff?" Once Auron would have winced at the undeserved and obsolete titles, but he'd since grown complacent and the words since cheapened. "You should make us some swords someday. Or nun chucks," The boy continued breathlessly, "Anyway, I just come by to tell you that Lady Ginnem kicked the bucket and Lulu's back in town."
The boy left, loudly bringing the news to the next hut down, leaving the heavy cloth of the entrance to swing closed. Auron kept his eyes on the curtain for a while, noting every breeze that caused the thick weave to shudder, disregarding the stinging pain in his finger of which he had become dimly aware.
Ginnem's dead.
Lulu’s returned.
So the dead return.
A crumbling tremor of sorts seized his stomach and chest. Auron was a pessimist. As such, he had long accepted Lulu as gone the day he watched her boat leave until it winked out below the horizon of the sea. If not dead (Braska), then gone -unreachable (Jecht).
No. She was alive. And she’d returned.
Auron gazed at his hand. The laceration was not so serious, but it was deep and wide and not clotting. He would need to tend to it, eventually. It had muddied the dirt floor in neat circles -like the first few raindrops at the beginning of a rainstorm.
He had thought about her, when she was gone. He had dreamt about her. In her absence, there was no need for shame. Now-- he was not certain.
Auron idly considered how one might gradually bleed to death through such an insignificant wound, with the body constantly regenerating itself. As slow as life? No. More likely to die of infection than blood loss with this one.
He couldn’t avoid her. Not on this tiny island, with its huts assembled in a cramped, communal fashion. With a furtive lift of a curtain, any given inhabitant might be able to see when one left their dwelling and easily discern to what manner of business they were attending.
He did not leave his hut that day.
-Key-
Auron always found a certain prayerful kindness in the sea at night.
Careful to avoid disturbing his bandaged finger, he unlaced his boots and slid his feet out, one by one, the slight spray moistening his toes. It was upon these moldy boards that he had taken his first step onto the island, eight years prior.
With Braska. And Jecht.
At the thought of his old friends, a distant whale called with a ghostly song. He gave a dour smirk at the expanse of water made visible by moonlight. "I'm sorry I failed you, Jecht. I still believe your Zanarkand is out there. I am not the man to find it. Forgive me."
He closed his eyes, then, and spoke with his heart. Yuna's safe here. Happy and safe. She's training in midwifery. A life-bringer. She'll live the peaceful live you'd hoped. I only regret that I could not do more, my lord.
Her voice behind him was soft. But it was not the waves against the shore, or the wind rattling the palms and thus it was immediately discernible. “This dock hasn't been used for eight years. I thought I was the only one who remembered it.” His heart fell like a rotten fruit. “You know why they don't, right?” Her voice became louder with every step nearer. She stood behind him now. Auron had not looked at her yet. “Perhaps not, you weren't here.” She sat beside him and Auron could not help but see her white hands, gesturing, in his peripheral vision. “Two children. Killed by a garuda while swimming in the shallow waters here.” She laughed sharply and unexpectedly. “Rather than dealing with the problem and simply hunting the fiend down, they took the trouble to move the entire dock and fishing operation to the opposite side of the island, farther away from the village yet. I always thought that foolish, but no-one here ever agreed with me.”
Auron turned his face away from her but her presence was upon him like the sun. “I could have agreed with that, once. But it continues.” He spoke quickly, vaguely addressing the sea rather than the girl beside him.
“What...?”
He turned to her, his eyes hooded in moonshadow. “Lulu, I am sorry. Losing one’s summoner is--”
“Sorry. Everyone says sorry. Don’t apologize if you’re not at fault.” She cut her words wearily.
In his last act, Braska had cast curaga on his youngest guardian with a noble smile on his face. Despite the sinister fanfare that accompanied the holy ritual -the seizing ground, the shrill whistling and snapping bright rudeness of the pyrefly swarm, Auron had witnessed it, lucid and livid. His lord's --his friend's life was over with all the poetry of a cold water droplet upon a hot wood stove. The summoner burst into sparks that swirled and wrapped around Jecht, layer upon layer, a silvery cocoon. He heard his ally -his friend, screaming from within, his low frequency clear and deep amongst the whining supernatural din.
They were not screams of pain. Nor were they screams of terror or grief. They were jangling crows of one gripped and mangled by power. The coronation of a corrupt king.
The survivor fell to his knees, heavier than tears. He should have done better. He should have done differently.
He said nothing.
“I'm the one to be sorry,” She lowered her voice. “No-one else. I was overconfident.”
“Perhaps she overestimated you.”
Lulu gaped at him. “When I was returning --when I was on the ship, you know what my thoughts were? I thought, of all people, Auron would understand. He's done this before, he's been a guardian, he's lost a summoner...and I thought about how I was lucky to know you, to have someone in Besaid I could--”
He shivered.
“I...have been through these things, yes. But I cannot process them. I have no wisdom for you, Lulu.”.
His right hand was on her left shoulder, trembling. She placed her right hand over his. His first instinct was to pull it away, but then...she smiled slightly, sad-eyed.
“You know, I remember when you first came here. It was on this dock. I waited for your boat, because I knew it was coming. Summoners came here all the time back then, a new batch every month or so, but I greeted everyone. Wakka was so jealous later that he'd missed meeting the High Summoner and his guardians. Do you remember me, from that day? I remember it.”
“...with Braska...” He said slowly, flatly.
“And Jecht. And I don't understand how you put up with him for so long--” In the dim glow of the moon, she could see memories working in his eyes. “You don't remember?”
“I remember you when I returned with Yuna. I remember how took her in, how dependable and devoted you were. I remember how I respected you. You were more of an adult than I could be for Yuna.”
“You were in a bad way, then.”
“You are stronger than me.”
“No. I'm not, Auron.” Her voice cracked and she began to weep.
He drew her close and thought of his summoner, his heart twisting and making him ill. The river kept rising and the rains would not cease. Years of unvoiced words and untaken actions had him worn down. The banks had eroded.
And in that moment, with her scent rising rising to his eyes, it flowed over.
Uncontrolled, flooding them both.
It was of a natural force.
He spoke, his words rising to the surface and busting like bubbles. “I remember when I fell in love with you.”
And so the warrior stood, raised up to his full height on the edge of the gorge. And so he released his sword and shield with a resounding clang that slapped across the crevice. And so as the arms were finally no more, the man was no longer a warrior.
-Harmony-
"You know, I never really believed you'd make it back to us. But I should have known better than to doubt the Legendary Sir Auron. That's what they're calling you these days, you know --Legendary Guardian to High Summoner Braska. This is something to tell the grandkids. By Yevon, this is something my great-great-grandkids will be telling their grandkids --old gramps Kinoc chummed around with the The Sir Auron! You know the Brotherhood wants you to return, right? They're ready too forget this whole business with Father Milo's daughter. Bygones be bygones and all that. They want to make you commander -you'd have a whole career ahead of you."
Kinoc never did understand what brought Auron to Besaid --Yevon bless him, his old friend had never been rich in empathy. Auron left behind the last of his spirit in Zanarkand; some manner of futile vigil to Braska's corpse and Jecht's guttering soul. He remembered the night well, steely-cold and iron-black, blasting through fiends in a teary rage. The flame of life extinguished; hope and love were no longer his to hold.
And yet. Here he was, on the dock with this girl -this woman, heart pliant to her every breath.
Lulu blinked at him, her voice sandy with tears and surprise. "You fell in love with me?"
With her so utterly in the here-and-now, with her near enough to feel her radiant warmth on his face, Auron needled with regret. "I-I...I need to leave."
Lulu grabbed the long dark braid along his spine and tugged, anchoring him. "No." Her voice was hardening back into her dark, slightly teasing alto. Auron shivered as the skin at the base of his neck goosefleshed. "I'm not going to let you go with that."
"Lulu, I am an idiot, an old man..." Lulu clapped a hand over his mouth, firmly. Auron jerked in surprise.
"Auron, you're 32. I'm 20. I'm not a child. And you," She paused and let the braid slip from her hand as she traced the contour of his cheek. "are no old man."
Auron gripped her wrist delicately between his thumb and index finger to pull her hand away from his face, but made no effort to move off the dock. He turned his head away from her, stray hairs wildly haloing his head in silver.
And so the two sat like that for a while and in their silence the ocean grew louder. I will love her as you loved the world, my Lord.
"Lulu, are you certain?"
"Yes. Auron, I--. You know, Ginnem. She always talked about the afterward. Did Braska do that?" Lulu continued without pausing for an answer. "She said she was going to retire to a little cottage on the edge of the Calm Lands and keep bees. And we'd laugh at the thought of her in a beekeeper's veil. And then she asked me if I was going to return to Besaid and I said no. I meant it, too. I didn't want to come back here. I didn't want to leave this world I was just discovering and go back to this desolate little island. So I said I'd deliver her honey to the edges of Spira. I wanted nothing but the edges of Spira. But then, after the Cavern of the Stolen Fayth --all I wanted was to return here. To Chappu, Yuna, Wakka and you." Her voice threatened to break again as she set her sharp chin upon his shoulder "Especially you."
Quavering now, he lay a hand upon her head and gently worked his fingers into her braids. He had been strong once. No more.
"I love you."
The lovers leaned into a kiss, the sea sighing a chorus behind them.
Two trembling bodies, born again to the earth as though they'd dropped from the moon, speaking only in the language of lovers. And so they stayed, body touching body until the syrupy light of dawn brought the morning into them and as with the rest of the world. It brought back the songbirds with their morning melodies and it brought back the laughing children with their blitzballs and best moves. As for the lovers, it brought back hope, love and life.
By that afternoon Sin had destroyed two villages. They say the death toll was over a thousand.