A/N: I thought I'd try my hand at writing for something I'd not yet tried. That said, this is my first FFVI fic. I hope I got the characters right. This takes place at the very end of the game.
Celes looked across the expanse of the orange sky, watched the sun set. The wind whipped around her, causing her pale blond hair to dance. Her chin was propped on her delicately folded hands- elbows resting on the ornate, if a bit weathered, railing of the Falcon. She didn't stir when Locke leaned against the railing beside her. His back to the world; gray eyes set on her green ones.
"What's up?" He casually asked her.
The former general sighed, standing up fully. She gripped the railing of the airship and pulled herself closer to it. "I was simply thinking," she explained.
Locke closed the minute distance between them, his gloved hand covering hers. "Of?"
The blond woman studied their hands as she explained, "Of how I'll get on without my magic." Her hand slipped free from beneath Locke's, his warmth making her hand sweat. She had never sweat so easily. Being infused with magic as an infant, Celes felt the cool comfort of ice magic running through her system. Her body temperature was always well below others', her touch as cool and as hard as polished marble. Right now, she felt as though she were melting.
Locke tilted his head to the side, balancing his thoughts. His earrings jangled and his bracelets all clanged together as he scratched the back of his head. He was trying to find something to say- the right thing to say- anything to make Celes feel at ease. They saved the world! She should be celebrating. Instead, the former General appeared as if she were in mourning.
He stole a look across the deck of the airship, at the group's other natural magic-user. Terra had let her hair down and was smiling freely, laughing. She beamed at Edgar and talked animatedly of how she was going to prepare the biggest, most delicious dinner her adopted children would ever know. The half-Esper woman almost seemed relieved that her magic was gone.
"Terra seems to be doing fine," he offered, though instantly regretted it when he was Celes' reaction.
Celes' eyes narrowed and she folded her arms across her chest. "She has something to come home to, people to take care of," she glared at Locke directly. "I had nothing but magic and now it's gone." Her voice slightly wavered, though she pretended not to notice it. Looking away from Locke, Celes turned to face the setting sun. "It's like not being able to see, or hear. Part of me has died. I can't celebrate that. Not when it was the only thing I had."
Locke frowned. "You insult me."
Celes blinked, confused. "I beg your pardon?"
"How can you say you have nothing, that you have no one?" Locke made a sweeping gesture across the airship's deck at the rest of the group, too wrapped up in celebrating and congratulating one another to notice Celes' pity party. "You have us, Celes." Locke covered her pale hand with is own. "And you have me."
"Locke, I-"
"Silence, general" he joked in what he felt sounded like an authoritative tone. He continued, tone soft. Eyes, soft. "I'm not going to tell you that it's not okay to be sad. I feel how you feel; when I had magic it was as if I had a set of hands I never knew existed. Like I had found a part of me I never knew was missing, but Celes: you need to let it go."
She nodded, felt the warmth of Locke's hand over hers. He was right. It was time to say goodbye to Winter. She turned her hand up underneath his and twined her fingers around his. "It will be hard," Celes admitted, stepped closer to Locke. Her shoulder rested comfortably against his bicep. "But I will certainly try it."
"Trying is all I ask," Locke said, untwining their hands to wrap an arm about Cele's waist. He could faintly hear Setzer demand 100 gil from Edgar.