This is just a quick little one shot of my favourite summone spirit/aeon/eidolon/GF, whatever. Reviews welcome, even if it's just a little smilie smilie : )
And remember:
That is not dead, which can eternal lie,
And with strange aeons even death may die.
The Fayth Of Macalania
What was my name? No. You do not need to know that. Know only this: I am Shiva, she who dances in the eternal frost. The ice queen.
How did I become a fayth? Yes, I can tell you that. I was chosen by a priest of Yevon. They say I volunteered, but no...he threatened my lover. He told me my love would be killed if I did not sacrifice myself.
So, on a cold crisp morning, they took me to the newly built temple. The priest told me to kneel and pray. He and his accolites began chanting over me.
After a time, I felt a sharp pang thrugh my left cheek. I cried out, but the priest shushed me. I continued praying, and the pain became worse, then, gradually, less, as my body became numb.
Then, suddenly there was a release, as if I had been tugging on a rope that had suddenly broken. The priest's voices became muffled, and I looked round. I saw my body on the floor, and I realised that I was not alive anymore. Not in that way. Never again. I watched the priests arrange my body to suit their purposes, posing it beneath the glass floor. I saw the damage that had been done, saw the icicles mutating the skin. It looked...ugly, twisted and unnatural. I raised my hand, and felt the same marking on my new body.
My blood was turned to ice, still glasiers beneath my frozen skin. YetI knew that I would have suffered far worse to save him.
It was only later that I found out I hadn't saved him. When the first summoner came to me, I saw her other aeons. He was among them. His new name? Ifrit. The fire aeon. We could not touch, could not hold each other without hurting one another. We could only look at each other, and communicate after a fashion. The priest had told him the same lies he had told me. Told him I would be spared. It was then that my suspision of Yevon began to grow. In time, we aeons of Yevon unravelled the whole twisted plot.
But we could not tell the summoners. Perhaps a part of it was fear. We had already died once, we were afraid to again. But the guilt inside me grows still, and perhaps one day it will find an outlet.
But until then I fight, my scars of ice tribal markings. I am the ruler of ice and cold, freezing all who stand in my way. I am the dance that keeps the world turning. Without me, the woods of macalania would fade, the temple sink beneath the ice.
I am the ruler of ice. But I am also it's prisoner.