for Mary with the prompt: remember me - one character trying to get another to remember them
The trill of a scream ricocheted off the hallways. Blood splattered the floor. One last gurgle, a plea for mercy, escaped the soldier's feeble lips. A small gathering stood in awe before the spectacle—of Kefka eviscerating a soldier for delivering him a message from General Leo. The fresh corpse collapsed to Kefka's feet as he clenched his sword and glared.
"Any others feel the need to interrupt my time?!" he demanded.
Not a word. The soldiers froze and averted their eyes.
Except for Terra. She dared to meet his gaze while clasping her hands over her pulsing heart.
Kefka scoffed. "Good!"
He pivoted to march off. A string of mutters hummed on his lips. Once he disappeared at the end of the corridor, the bystanders whipped around face one another to divulge in hushed gossip.
They had whispered of her, too—the Emperor's prized pet and toy. Perhaps they convinced themselves that Terra was incapable of eavesdropping or outright deaf, but her silence warranted concern more so than a moment of weakness. In her stillness, she breathed in their toxic words, their hateful glares. How could people wallow in such hate? Did it not tire their minds and rot their souls?
One glance was all it took to quiet them. How fascinating; they dared to speak when they believed it to be safe, only to tremble before the delicate turn of her head.
A snap of her fingers and they would all burst into flames. That easy. No one would question her. Instead, she strode past the group, ignored the drifting eyes, and followed Kefka's tracks.
It wasn't the first time others spoke of Kefka. Perhaps there was reason in their wavering tongues that questioned his sanity. He was a Magitek knight, after all, one of two who continued to survive the numerous injections and procedures. Such a role was stressful enough, never mind the added pressure of those who refused to understand him. Kefka snapped when others wasted their breath or questioned his thought process. Terra longed to do the same upon being asked a mundane question for the hundredth time. Didn't foot soldiers have something better to do than pester her with childish questions?
But Kefka never killed a man. Not like this. Slap across the face or even threaten, sure, but this? Terror paralyzed those used to the brutality of war, yet Terra hadn't flinched. Or had the shock numbed her from any possible emotion?
He's not a bad man, Terra tried to rationalize with herself and ease her racing thoughts. He's ever laid a finger on me.
That much was true—she knew it was. All her time spent in Vector, from childhood to adolescence, Kefka maintained a vigil over Terra.
"You and I are more similar than you think," he once said a lifetime ago. "We both can control magic with a single thought. Such a special child…. Don't let others view you as a monster, because you're not."
She was barely old enough to hold a simple conversation or contain a small, floating flame. Still, her eyes widened and reflected the exact wonder he found in her.
"But… what if they're mean to me?" she had asked.
That smirk of his blossomed to life. "I won't ever let them hurt you."
Kefka kept his word. For every individual he tore through, verbally or physically, he bestowed Terra with another smile. She was but a flower amidst a battlefield and he warded off all those who dared to trample over her, himself included. There were gifts and honeyed words, but never a drop of hatred towards her. Always a smile.
All those years of pleasantries blinded her to that smile twisting and decaying over time.
And you still wouldn't hurt me, Terra thought, her feet slowing to a halt at an archway. Right…?
Rain poured from the darkened skies and slicked the marble floors of the open courtyard. A stream of blood trickled to Terra's feet. She followed the crimson trail and hitched her breath.
Kefka knelt in the center, striking his head like a mantra into the marble flooring.
His name squeaked past her lips. She tossed the hood of her cloak over her head and sprinted into the rain. He never registered her presence, even when she dropped to her knees, even when she latched onto his shoulders, even when she begged for him to stop. Her nails sunk past his damp attire and dared to pierce his skin. Again he smashed his head into the hard ground, again she pleaded.
It was when Terra broke out into a scream that Kefka reared back with a tight fist. She gasped, he growled. She flinched, he towered above. Then they both froze.
Nothing but the deluge of rain shifted between them.
Kefka's fist softened. The rain carried fresh blood from the gaping wound at his hairline down his face to smear his eyeliner and blush. Those eyes… rage seared through them, but all Terra found was cold ash. Kefka curled up into himself and clutched his head like an overwhelmed child.
"It won't stop," Kefka said, the words more fragile than a single flame burning through a hurricane.
Terra caught her breath and found her voice. "What do you mean?"
His fingers curled into his soaked, blond hair. "I… can no longer tell. One moment, I'm surrounded by horrific visions in a surreal world, the next I'm in paradise, and then… I'm back here. What was once sweet joy is blood on my hands. And the voices… they're there, I know it. No one else seems to notice but me. And everyone stares like I'm a rabid animal." A slow chuckle oozed out of him. "Maybe I am. I don't know anymore. Who I am now, who I used to be… it's but a distant dream. A dream… I wish I could wake up from this. I wish this could all stop."
"But you're awake now." Terra dared to extend a hand, her fingertips trembling. He won't hurt me. He never would.
"Am I, though?" He peeked up through his cocoon-like state. "How is this real? How do I know nothing has changed in me? How do I know this won't get worse?"
"I…." Her eyes drifted away as her shoulders slumped. "I don't know, but I also don't want you to suffer."
Kefka sighed. "Terra… sweet, sweet Terra. What did I ever do to deserve your kindness?"
"How… could I not be kind?"
To that, Kefka scoffed. "I am but a monster now."
"You're not to me."
He reeled back, those wild, pale eyes striking through hers. There was no monster before her; only the man who played with fire beside her, who escorted her to view annual fireworks, who ensured she felt a sense of belonging in the depths of military and political agendas.
Her hand ghosted over the wound and glowed. A soothing wave of magic flowed into him until the bleeding ceased. As her palm sunk into his cheek, Kefka eased into it.
"Then," he said, closing his eyes, "when I do become a monster, I trust you to put me out of my misery. So I don't suffer any further. But until then… remember me? Remember who I was, who I used to be? And not… not this. Not whatever the fuck I'm morphing into."
Cold rain washed over them both, but the fire in Terra burned bright enough to numb her from the sensation. All she focused on was the man before her, the man she knew. Thought she knew. It hadn't always been this way, had it? Surely there was a reason. There had to be. He wasn't a monster. He wasn't a monster. He wasn't….
She leaned in, pressed her warm lips into the closed wound, and murmured, "How could I ever forget?"