Final Fantasy X (Auron/Kinoc)
Title: Without a Prayer
Author: Gigabomb
Rating: PG
Warnings: Spoilers for some backstory, minor gore, religion
Word Count: 714
Prompt: Severe Injury - "Facing mortality with a glare."
Over the course of their long acquaintance, Auron could recall a number of times when he had wanted to choke Kinoc into silence so badly that he could feel his hands convulsing. The other monk had been his friend for years, had guided him around the monastery until it stopped feeling like a maze-around which every corner he was sure to run into an unsent just slavering for the opportunity to rip out an unsuspecting novice’s entrails-and started feeling more like home, but somehow all that made it even harder to ignore the man’s (many) flaws. Number one on Auron’s list, which perhaps was not the worst in Yevon’s eyes but sure seemed like it should have been much of the time, was Kinoc’s inability to gauge when it was a good idea to stop speaking.
In this case, that moment had come and gone about twenty minutes ago, and Auron was already mourning the passing of the last of his patience. Digging his nails into his palms whenever Kinoc’s pointless nonsense or even more grating cutting remarks grew to be too much to be easily tolerated had worked in the past, but at the moment he did not possess the luxury of free hands.
He did not think too deeply about what they were currently being used for. The feeling of Kinoc’s insides shifting between his fingers was bad enough. And Kinoc would not. Stop. Talking.
“You’re such… a moron, Auron. You and your… bright ideas. The Crusaders need our… help, you said. We need to give the people… time, you said.” Kinoc hacked, an ugly, wet sound. Red trailed down the side of his cheek and joined the pool of blood already half-formed around his body. But not even dying was enough to erase the other monk’s weak, mocking grin, or stay his incessant babbling. “Like anyone… can slow down Sin. Looks like your… delusions of grandeur have gotten us into trouble… once again.”
“Shut up.” Auron cast his eyes around frantically, for what was probably the twelfth or thirteenth or twentieth time. He couldn’t have given away all the potions. Not all of them. He knew better than that, knew to save a few for a real emergency.
If only there had not been so many of those. So much screaming. And the faces… they had been so young. Younger than him. Younger than Kinoc.
Auron never had been good at saying no. Not when it really mattered.
“Shut up,” he said again, desperately, because unlike Kinoc, Auron rarely could think of anything to say. He said it, even though Kinoc had already gone quiet.
It was then for the first time that Auron looked down. Looked, not just glanced then turned away, bile rising in his throat. Kinoc never went quiet. A constant stream of words tumbling out of his friend’s mouth had been the background noise of Auron’s life for the past decade, and Auron suddenly realized that no matter how many times he had been tempted to strangle Kinoc just so he could have a few minutes of peace, there was something horribly wrong in Spira when Kinoc stopped talking just because Auron asked. Kinoc was not supposed to go quiet.
Kinoc was not supposed to stop breathing, either.
The wind slowed down. For the first time, Auron felt the rough planks of what was left of Kilika digging through his leather pants, the sun burning the back of his neck. The utter quiet of a newly-ruined village, bereft of the living. The sound of his own breathing, deafening in his ears.
He slammed a fist on his friend’s chest, once, twice, thrice, hoping and praying and knowing it was utterly futile, because everyone else was dead and being Yevon’s favored had not saved the temple in Djose from Sin’s devastation, had not preserved the lives of anyone who had fought so hard against that ultimate evil which no matter what the Summoners did never, ever went away long enough for Auron to forget the taste of fear in his mouth or the feel of his best friend’s life leaking out between his fingers, oh Yevon, please holy Yevon…
The wind sped up.
Kinoc, gasping and coughing, took in a deep, shuddering breath.
So did Auron.
Author: Gigabomb
Rating: PG
Warnings: Spoilers for some backstory, minor gore, religion
Word Count: 714
Prompt: Severe Injury - "Facing mortality with a glare."
Over the course of their long acquaintance, Auron could recall a number of times when he had wanted to choke Kinoc into silence so badly that he could feel his hands convulsing. The other monk had been his friend for years, had guided him around the monastery until it stopped feeling like a maze-around which every corner he was sure to run into an unsent just slavering for the opportunity to rip out an unsuspecting novice’s entrails-and started feeling more like home, but somehow all that made it even harder to ignore the man’s (many) flaws. Number one on Auron’s list, which perhaps was not the worst in Yevon’s eyes but sure seemed like it should have been much of the time, was Kinoc’s inability to gauge when it was a good idea to stop speaking.
In this case, that moment had come and gone about twenty minutes ago, and Auron was already mourning the passing of the last of his patience. Digging his nails into his palms whenever Kinoc’s pointless nonsense or even more grating cutting remarks grew to be too much to be easily tolerated had worked in the past, but at the moment he did not possess the luxury of free hands.
He did not think too deeply about what they were currently being used for. The feeling of Kinoc’s insides shifting between his fingers was bad enough. And Kinoc would not. Stop. Talking.
“You’re such… a moron, Auron. You and your… bright ideas. The Crusaders need our… help, you said. We need to give the people… time, you said.” Kinoc hacked, an ugly, wet sound. Red trailed down the side of his cheek and joined the pool of blood already half-formed around his body. But not even dying was enough to erase the other monk’s weak, mocking grin, or stay his incessant babbling. “Like anyone… can slow down Sin. Looks like your… delusions of grandeur have gotten us into trouble… once again.”
“Shut up.” Auron cast his eyes around frantically, for what was probably the twelfth or thirteenth or twentieth time. He couldn’t have given away all the potions. Not all of them. He knew better than that, knew to save a few for a real emergency.
If only there had not been so many of those. So much screaming. And the faces… they had been so young. Younger than him. Younger than Kinoc.
Auron never had been good at saying no. Not when it really mattered.
“Shut up,” he said again, desperately, because unlike Kinoc, Auron rarely could think of anything to say. He said it, even though Kinoc had already gone quiet.
It was then for the first time that Auron looked down. Looked, not just glanced then turned away, bile rising in his throat. Kinoc never went quiet. A constant stream of words tumbling out of his friend’s mouth had been the background noise of Auron’s life for the past decade, and Auron suddenly realized that no matter how many times he had been tempted to strangle Kinoc just so he could have a few minutes of peace, there was something horribly wrong in Spira when Kinoc stopped talking just because Auron asked. Kinoc was not supposed to go quiet.
Kinoc was not supposed to stop breathing, either.
The wind slowed down. For the first time, Auron felt the rough planks of what was left of Kilika digging through his leather pants, the sun burning the back of his neck. The utter quiet of a newly-ruined village, bereft of the living. The sound of his own breathing, deafening in his ears.
He slammed a fist on his friend’s chest, once, twice, thrice, hoping and praying and knowing it was utterly futile, because everyone else was dead and being Yevon’s favored had not saved the temple in Djose from Sin’s devastation, had not preserved the lives of anyone who had fought so hard against that ultimate evil which no matter what the Summoners did never, ever went away long enough for Auron to forget the taste of fear in his mouth or the feel of his best friend’s life leaking out between his fingers, oh Yevon, please holy Yevon…
The wind sped up.
Kinoc, gasping and coughing, took in a deep, shuddering breath.
So did Auron.