(no subject)
One-liners, a la buttonsandblows.
FFX
Jecht's even less dressed than usual and is currently dancing an awful jig around the campfire; Auron closes his eyes again and wishes to hell that it's all some sort of terrible nightmare, but he's never had that kind of luck.
"Ally-oop," Jecht lifts her up onto his broad shoulders and Rikku finally gets the satisifaction of being the tallest in the crowd; she taps her heels happily on his chest and tries not to drip too much ice cream into his hair.
FFX/FFVII
Auron's fingers write the symbols of her name across her bare back and Yuffie shivers and wiggles and finally realizes that having a personal samurai isn't all bad.
It's goddamn annoying and admiting it tastes like stale, warm beer in his mouth, but Cid finally growls out the words that Rikku's been dying to hear: "The design worked, kid; the fucking thing flew."
Rikku dances and shakes her tush and pops the cork on the cheap bottle of champagne she'd been storing in the back of her fridge for months; later, when even Cid is happy that she won the contest, Rikku feels like she's flying in her airship, even though her feet are firm (or mostly firm, at least) on the ground.
Zelda
Malon's long hair is getting rough at the edges; it's been at least a year since it's last been cut, but she's still not sure she trusts Ganondorf with a blade at her neck.
The dry air is knives in her lungs and her heart wrenches painful thumps in her chest, but the sword clenched in her bloody hand remains unwavering until Ganondorf claps his approval and she allows herself to sink to the stained ground.
FFX
Jecht's even less dressed than usual and is currently dancing an awful jig around the campfire; Auron closes his eyes again and wishes to hell that it's all some sort of terrible nightmare, but he's never had that kind of luck.
"Ally-oop," Jecht lifts her up onto his broad shoulders and Rikku finally gets the satisifaction of being the tallest in the crowd; she taps her heels happily on his chest and tries not to drip too much ice cream into his hair.
FFX/FFVII
Auron's fingers write the symbols of her name across her bare back and Yuffie shivers and wiggles and finally realizes that having a personal samurai isn't all bad.
It's goddamn annoying and admiting it tastes like stale, warm beer in his mouth, but Cid finally growls out the words that Rikku's been dying to hear: "The design worked, kid; the fucking thing flew."
Rikku dances and shakes her tush and pops the cork on the cheap bottle of champagne she'd been storing in the back of her fridge for months; later, when even Cid is happy that she won the contest, Rikku feels like she's flying in her airship, even though her feet are firm (or mostly firm, at least) on the ground.
Zelda
Malon's long hair is getting rough at the edges; it's been at least a year since it's last been cut, but she's still not sure she trusts Ganondorf with a blade at her neck.
The dry air is knives in her lungs and her heart wrenches painful thumps in her chest, but the sword clenched in her bloody hand remains unwavering until Ganondorf claps his approval and she allows herself to sink to the stained ground.