After the Fall
Title: After the Fall
Summary: A short one-shot about Tidus' experience in the Farplane... I wrote it a long time ago. It's interesting. Don't know if it's good. But it's interesting. I decided to post it in case anyone wanted to leave me some commentary! So please do! Also posted on Fanfiction.net.
After the Fall
He stood, blatantly staring, just inside the stream of souls. There he was, one among many, once unique, and now just another in the crowd. His halt within the moving stream of finished life, though, was what continued to distinguish him from the others.
He didn’t want to go, but he had to. Letting go was the hardest thing he’d ever done, and would be the hardest thing he’d have to do for a long while. He didn’t want to let go, either… but he had to.
The void around him was full of blurred color, winds, and brightly slurred patches of flowers. There was a waterline that looked more like a water color when the constant buzz of the swimming souls around him clouded his vision. The movement was undetectable, almost like watching a fly in motion. The little creatures moved so fast that if you concentrated, you could see the trail of where their bodies had been in the air just seconds before, a blurred trail of grey headed by a comet of black. People were crowded, everywhere, leaving colored trails that made everything else seem washed together.
His hands, though, were solid as he looked down upon them. He remained still. He did not want to move as quickly as the others. He wanted to go back to a time in which complete stillness was impossible… a time in which his unnaturally perfect stillness wasn’t quite so obvious.
Far above, he noted, was the platform he’d stood on while he was still in their world… the world of the living, of the real. But he was only a dream, trapped in a dream world of painted color, a world of complete stillness that longed to move, that created false movement for the illusion alone.
The far edges of the open plains held waterfalls. Here alone, the color wasn’t washed together. The color wasn’t bright and full of possibility, false and denying. The colors were real. The outlines were apparent. He felt safe on the edges. Closer. He found a sense of contentment as he looked upon the waterfalls that brought the Sent into Farplane.
He, as he stared at the water and the constant flow toward him, wanted to be like the salmon at spawning time and jump back, fight the current, and return to where he was born. He wanted to go home… he wanted real motion, and real people… his friends, his game… his girl.
Even though he was so disconnected from the world, he still found a way to monitor the world of the living. He couldn’t leave, or look upon them. Only the lucky who dealt in the source of the Moonflow River could leave. He wasn’t about to wait for something to happen… the current was becoming less strong as time went on. How much time passed, he wasn’t entirely sure, but the walls of the waterfalls were not full to bursting. His existence here had to mean something… and perhaps it would be easier to fight the current, now.
There were others that were as he was. Still. Waiting for something real to happen, instead of waiting for nothing at all. They were blocks of truth within the fog. Beacons of light. He was not alone.
He was not alone.
The living inside the Farplane shone like the sun. The Unsent inside the Farplane didn’t shine as truly. The pyreflies that kept them going, the creatures through which the dead can make themselves known, were tempted to go and enjoy the blurred flower plains.
The first time he saw him, he held appreciation for the only Unsent he’d ever seen resist the pull of the Dead Land from within.
Then he noticed just how similar he looked to himself… and the possibility was there.
He was not alone… he could stay still for a little longer. He could fight the current, just as the Unsent did, and he could go home, to his friends, to his game, and to his girl.
And he himself began to glow as he smiled.
Summary: A short one-shot about Tidus' experience in the Farplane... I wrote it a long time ago. It's interesting. Don't know if it's good. But it's interesting. I decided to post it in case anyone wanted to leave me some commentary! So please do! Also posted on Fanfiction.net.
After the Fall
He stood, blatantly staring, just inside the stream of souls. There he was, one among many, once unique, and now just another in the crowd. His halt within the moving stream of finished life, though, was what continued to distinguish him from the others.
He didn’t want to go, but he had to. Letting go was the hardest thing he’d ever done, and would be the hardest thing he’d have to do for a long while. He didn’t want to let go, either… but he had to.
The void around him was full of blurred color, winds, and brightly slurred patches of flowers. There was a waterline that looked more like a water color when the constant buzz of the swimming souls around him clouded his vision. The movement was undetectable, almost like watching a fly in motion. The little creatures moved so fast that if you concentrated, you could see the trail of where their bodies had been in the air just seconds before, a blurred trail of grey headed by a comet of black. People were crowded, everywhere, leaving colored trails that made everything else seem washed together.
His hands, though, were solid as he looked down upon them. He remained still. He did not want to move as quickly as the others. He wanted to go back to a time in which complete stillness was impossible… a time in which his unnaturally perfect stillness wasn’t quite so obvious.
Far above, he noted, was the platform he’d stood on while he was still in their world… the world of the living, of the real. But he was only a dream, trapped in a dream world of painted color, a world of complete stillness that longed to move, that created false movement for the illusion alone.
The far edges of the open plains held waterfalls. Here alone, the color wasn’t washed together. The color wasn’t bright and full of possibility, false and denying. The colors were real. The outlines were apparent. He felt safe on the edges. Closer. He found a sense of contentment as he looked upon the waterfalls that brought the Sent into Farplane.
He, as he stared at the water and the constant flow toward him, wanted to be like the salmon at spawning time and jump back, fight the current, and return to where he was born. He wanted to go home… he wanted real motion, and real people… his friends, his game… his girl.
Even though he was so disconnected from the world, he still found a way to monitor the world of the living. He couldn’t leave, or look upon them. Only the lucky who dealt in the source of the Moonflow River could leave. He wasn’t about to wait for something to happen… the current was becoming less strong as time went on. How much time passed, he wasn’t entirely sure, but the walls of the waterfalls were not full to bursting. His existence here had to mean something… and perhaps it would be easier to fight the current, now.
There were others that were as he was. Still. Waiting for something real to happen, instead of waiting for nothing at all. They were blocks of truth within the fog. Beacons of light. He was not alone.
He was not alone.
The living inside the Farplane shone like the sun. The Unsent inside the Farplane didn’t shine as truly. The pyreflies that kept them going, the creatures through which the dead can make themselves known, were tempted to go and enjoy the blurred flower plains.
The first time he saw him, he held appreciation for the only Unsent he’d ever seen resist the pull of the Dead Land from within.
Then he noticed just how similar he looked to himself… and the possibility was there.
He was not alone… he could stay still for a little longer. He could fight the current, just as the Unsent did, and he could go home, to his friends, to his game, and to his girl.
And he himself began to glow as he smiled.