Additional Genres: Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Spiritual, Supernatural
Author's Note: I wrote a little something while waiting for my bus connection on my way home tonight. Set immediately after Snow's visit to Hope in Palumpolum in the Fragments Before novella.
As always, statements in double quotes are speech, statements without quotes are thoughts, and single quotes are special based on their context (onomatopoeia, euphemism, quoting another, etc.).
In Memoriam
Hope stared from the balcony of his childhood home. Palumpolum's usually sun-filled days had dimmed since the Fall two years ago. True sunlight reached them for eight to ten hours each day, depending on Gran Pulse's seasons.
In the distance, the jagged scar of Ragnarok's first attack framed the cerulean blue of a Pulsian autumn sky. Palumpolum's unique perspective, once shared with Bodhum and Eden, gave him a view of the entire thing now that the fal'Cie couldn't interfere.
It's almost like we're in a deep valley or ravine with no way out. The Yaschas Massif, only darker. The extraneous thought and the view were a welcome respite from the emotional chaos Snow's visit engendered earlier that day. Hope, the first enrollee of the Academy, tugged at his tie—the color of the sky and her eyes—as if that gesture alone could undo what his friend had unknowingly wrought. Mundane thoughts of banal matters could not alleviate his pain or mute his memories for long.
A cruel, self-deprecating smirk crooked the right side of his lips. They say I'm smart. That I'm destined for 'great things.' Hands clenched into fists. You trusted me, and I couldn't figure out your physical knife would have crystallized with you. I accepted your absence as if I didn't know you at all. He pushed aside the self-loathing that came with the knowledge he failed her. I will find you, Lightning.
Jade green eyes closed as tears pricked the corners.
"I'm sorry." His whisper drifted over the streets and paths far below. Voice caught in his throat, the young man, no longer a boy even though he was in his mid-teens, forced out the ragged words he needed to say aloud contrary to his body's best efforts to keep them inside.
"I forgot you! I'm so sorry, Lightning."
Tears spilled despite his best efforts to hold them back. He wrapped his arms protectively around his abdomen and sank to his knees. Head bowed, he promised, "I swear I will find you, Lightning. I will guide you home as you guided me."
He felt a warm, firm grip—her grip—on his shoulder. The phantom gesture brought him comfort no one and nothing else could. As if a flood gate opened, Hope Estheim cried.
Across an immeasurable distance, in a timeless place, Etro's Champion withdrew her hand from the time stream in front of the Goddess' throne. Weary eyes, the blue of a Pulsian sky, opened. Her first smile in ages curved her lips.
"I know, Hope. I know."
