Disclaimer: [for the entirety of the story] alas, someone made the
wonderful world of the FF Series, but it wasn't me. I'm just using the
characters, etc.
This Story's a little different, it has portions of a book I'm writing for a publisher, and some pages from my own journals. If you want to see the pictures described, say so in a review. All the lingo other than English is Latin. I thought it would give Fujin a bit more soul to have her be an artist.
A Seifuu. For I have found quite a lack of them. To Patience!
'What makes things final? What makes it the end? What is it in the stories that linger? What makes them complete? Is it the lack of completion? The open ended that lets the dreamers dream and the doubters theorize? Why peddle words like a beggar in the hidden corners of the world that cries, "I AM COMPLETE! SEE ME AND BE SAVED! THE END WILL BE SO BE CONTENT!" although they are still beggars in the corners that no one wishes to see. What happens when that beggar rises from the hidden corner and walks among us? Is he seen? Do they hear him? Do they listen?
Perhaps they do, perhaps they are as sleepless as I, caught in an eternal struggle to find that which proves the contentment of having nothing, of suffering much and lacking everything a hero would fight for, but I doubt it. I doubt, and am silent, I listen and am searching, I struggle and I believe, for what implies consent more than silence?'
- Novus Ordo Saeclorum "A New Order of Ages"
Seifer closed the handbound journal and tapped it against his fingers lightly before looking the volume over. It was one of many sketchbooks and journals Fujin created, all hand bound and hand made from materials she found herself; this particular one was covered in an aged greenish leather, beaten and battered by the abuse it contracted being constantly in Fujin's pack. He remembered her working furiously on it almost every day. It seemed that although Fujin said little, she wasted no words. Every word, it seemed, was begging for an answer, as if she herself were tainted and unworthy to enjoy the beggar's phrases. The following pages were chalk full of drawings and scribbles made in pencil, charcoal, whatever she could get her small hands on. Seifer could remember her frantic about reaching into her metal art box and seeing her precious charcoals and pastels crushed to dust after a gravija spell. Seifer could remember her tears ripping canyons along her pale porcelain face until Raijin would try and make her laugh. He was always trying to make people laugh. Seifer also remembered Fujin taking her delicate fingers and rubbing the dust into the paper in lines and swirls that eventually formed the pictures Seifer could see in front of him. One was different, though. The lines and swirls were bigger and wobbly, from when she took his fingers, dipped them in her precious powder and guided his hand through the dance of drawing. All in all he was pretty proud of himself, proud of what they accomplished together.
"She was trying to tell me," Seifer thought, spreading his warrior's calloused fingers gently hardly even touching the grooved and stressed paper, "She was trying to tell me that I could be that man, that I could be happy. And that I couldn't do it alone".
Seifer had thought of her every day for years, mostly because they were together every day, her, Rajin and him, a Posse, the Disciplinary Committee, "Garden" Seifer spat, siting in the darkened room. Dark except for a single window, almost a skylight far above him coating the area of the book and spilling onto the floor a glorious light, a glorious sweetness, but there wasn't enough for him. No matter how hard he tried, the only way to get himself into the light was to kneel. It occured to him that the purpose of the light was to make people turn supplicant, to tame them into breaking and allowing whatever bliss followed the light coax and wash the kneeling figure into eternal servanthood. To be master of nothing, and servant of all. Only once had Seifer Almasy been in that light, only once bathed in its glory; the last night before Fujin and Rajin left to seek Ellone in Balamb, almost two weeks ago. Rajin had gone to search for his loves: a meal and sleep so Fujin had come into his room clutching the journal and tin of powdered charcoal.
"What do you want?" he had asked, immediately apologizing for his tone. He never apologized for anything to anyone, but Fujin was different, she was so... fragile, like he could either break her completely, or help her stand taller. Having someone depend on you that much changes you, he thought, she would follow him to the end, they were a posse, but only Seifer controlled how. Seeing her clutching that stupid book and box so close to her heart as she shyly scuffled into the room was satisfying, in a way, and in another way painfully jealous to see. Seifer had been polishing his gunblade, Hyperion, and checking all of its parts, it was something he did every day. His greatcoat was strewn on his bed, and as he waived her in, she shuffled it over onto a chair and sat beside her friend. Seifer found that he couldn't speak, Fujin's muteness must be contagious he thought, finally wrapping Hyperion in the cloth he had been using to polish it, and placing it reverently back into the case. After pushing the case to the side, Fujin surprised him by kneeling directly in the light in front of Seifer's feet. It felt good, in a domineering sort of way, to have a girl kneeling in front if him, but he quickly let the thought drain out of his head, as Fujin opened the much beloved journal to the second to last page. There was writing all around that and the following pages, but she had left this one blank, for reasons Seifer would soon be able to explain. She held up the journal like a beacon, a pulpit, except instead of a cry in the desert, it was a single word,
"COME".
Seifer sat on his bed, overly huge and grandiose and wondered why they couldn't do whatever it was Fujin wanted up there, but found his knees buckling down to join her pleading, transparent eye. She smiled as she placed the book in his hand, slightly quivering from the contact, as she placed the tin box on the floor and opened it to reveal a thich ocean of multi-coloured dust merging into one black mess. It captivated Seifer, how this minute girl had grown on him through the years, her and Rajin were his only friends left, and even through and after Rinoa, Fujin was still there, kneeling in the light beside him. The light was so odd, so bright Seifer couldn't tell what was shining outside, he could only tell something was shining, stroking his face with an awesome brilliance that seemed to soak and set fire to Fujin's silver hair. Suddenly, Seifer felt like stroking it, reaching out and touching that straight silver hair flowing out of Fujin's head, but was brought back from his moment of want with her hand grabbing his and edging it over to the tin box , keeping the book suspended with her hand and his.
"Fujin... I'm no artist, I can't... it's yours" Seifer started mumbling, suddenly caught off guard, but she simply held his hand,
"HELP".
So Fujin continued, dipping Seifer's fingers in the powder ocean, and baptising them in the art of drawing. At first, his hand shook and jumped as he tried to be in control of what the picture looked like, of the vision he had in his head, until Fujin let go of his hand, and placed her fingers over his eyelids, closing his eyes.
"FEEL"
"But I can't see what I'm doing"
"AFFIRMATIVE"
"Why? Why can't I just do it the way I see it?"
"MORE"
"But..." Fujin surprised Seifer again by putting her fingers from his eyes to his lips, shushing him, then taking his hand into the charcoal ocean again. This time Seifer allowed his hand to be led, it felt odd to not be in control, to not know the outcome, to be enraptured in the touch of someone else, it felt condemning to feel her hand so softly skidding along the paper with mine, to see the light from the other side of my eyelids, almost like fire burning through. He liked fire, it consumed anything, was so destructive, yet so beautiful, it was enchanting as it burned, flickering passionately in whatever direction it saw fit. Nothing at all like Fujin. Fujin let herself be carried, drifted with the wind, but when aroused, could pound someone to the ground with invisible fury. Come to think of it, fire would just go straight up if it weren't for the wind. All that was running through his head as he let their hands drift across the page, smudging and swirling, painting a picture he couldn't see, but every second of not seeing, of not knowing made it okay. The picture was either going to be a complete mess or completely beautiful, and what did Seifer care? The sketchbook wasn't his. Their hands jerked as Seifer's muscles again tried to take control. He could feel Fujin frown, but she just took their hands off the page and dipped them in the dust again, this time putting her hand into Seifer's as he surprised himself by intertwining their fingers and moving in the same directions. After what seemed like forever, Fujin lifted their hands, and Seifer felt a tinge of loss at the empty air he had been resorted to.
"OPEN" Fujin commanded, her voice sounding so real.
Seifer opened his eyes and saw the beggar, deep bluish black outstretched in a surrounding circle of black tinted with what seemed like red and orange pastel. The red and orange faded into the corners, and there were tiny white spaces, and he could see where he messed up and was too harsh, but other than that it didn't look half bad. Seifer smiled, suddenly interested in what Fujin had written, in what graced the other pages of her book, but instead of revealing the other pages, she rose, and as she stood, she covered the light.
"PREPARE" she said, pivoting to go.
"No, stay. Just for a little while? Please?" Seifer shocked himself again, it hadn't been that long since he gave up trying with Rinoa, but he found himself doing things with Fujin that he had never thought possible with Rinoa, besides, he could tell she had the hots for Squall. Thinking about Squall made him want to fight, to reach back, grab Hyperion and go fight whatever came at him. Then he realised he was still kneeling in the middle of his room holding Fujin's hand, begging her to stay. Instead of saying he was pathetic and storming out like he thought she would, she knelt back down, closed the lid of her tin box still on the floor, placed the journal beside it and held Seifer's hands, spreading his fingers so that their hands were touching each other ourstretched, his calloused hands far engulfing her sliced and scared digits. As she brought their hands up, Seifer's breathing grew heavier, suddenly unable to control himself as a soft breeze flooded the air around them as Fujin manipulated it with magic. They were in the center of the breeze together, the air tuggin at him, bringing him closer, until their noses were almost touching and Fujin opened her eye, basking in the feel of her hair partially blowing in the breeze. Before he knew what he was doing, Seifer took his hand and tugged at the eye patch covering Fujin's left eye, and the winds burst out stronger as the book flipped open with the sudden gush of wind,
"NEGATIVE" Fujin said weakly, she had never sounded so fragile, but she found she couldn't move. Seifer tugged the patch off all the way and gulped slightly at the hideous scar jaggedly careening from the bridge of Fujin's nose to a little past the end of her eye, welding it forever shut. Her breaths grew ragged,
"HIDEOUS" Fujin pleaded, downcasting her eyes and letting her hands fall to her sides, but Seifer took a hand, opened the fingers and traced his own scar with Fujin's fingers, letting her hand linger there as his other hand curled around her waist before he peeled his own fingers apart and felt all the way across Fujin's scar.
"We've all got scars, Fujin"
"EMBARASSED"
"Why?"
"FAULT"
"Beautiful" Seifer heard himself say, softer and kinder than he had even dreamed possible coming from his mouth. Fujin's unscarred eye lept up at his, searching and scanning for something true, for one thing about what he said that he meant. She found a tear straining to cascade down his face, and pressed her fingers to her lips, then placed them on the tear as it fell,
"I'm not supposed to cry?" Seifer whispered, as Fujin's fingers, still dressed in his lone tear pressed against his lips as his grip on her waist tightened and he brought her closer to him. Seifer's back slid back and hit his bed, as Fujin fell against him, placing her hands around his neck and kissing him securely, of which he reciprocated and found his hands roaming Fujin's back, face and neck before gently lifting her chin in his hand and pulling her face lightly away.
"What are we doing?"
"COMFORT" the enigmatic silver vixen answered, leaning her hands against his chest and laying her head on her hands.
"Is that all?" he said, searching for something that could explain the nervous feeling in his gut. Of course he had kissed Rinoa before, but nothing in his time with Rinoa could amount to the pure passion and lingering presence that would haunt his mind.
"GOODBYE" Fujin replied, a tear falling freely from her eye, as Seifer realised that Fujin thought she would never see him again. She's afraid to die he thought, we're afraid we'll never see each other again. Woa, where did that come from, he thought, as he reached for her chin and pulled her carefully up to where he kissed her eyelids while wiping her tears with his thumb.
"Shh, Fuu, It's okay, it's gonna be okay, it has to be okay, we have to be okay, okay?"
Seifer let the words cascade without censuring them,
"I don't know what I feel, but it isn't bad, I'm not mad, or hurt or anything, I'm scared that the end is coming and that I don't know what we're going to do, I'm scared of death, of knowing I'll see Squall again, and I'm scared I'll never see you again, that one of us will die..."
"NO!" Fujin wailed, kissing Seifer again, letting all her feelings and emotions, worry, doubt, friendship, caring, love... love. A love that was reciprocated with Seifer's lips as his hormones and instincts took control of his body and he let himself go, just like in the picture. Was that what she came in for? To say goodbye, to get me to let go? Seifer thought, before gasping for breath and letting their backs slip down to the floor, blankets coming with them, Fujin on top of him now, devoid of her blue jacket that she had chucked into the corner with her eyepatch. Taking a quick breath again, Seifer looked up at the girl, so wounded, so frail, do full of power he never would have thought she could be that weak, then again, he never wanted to accept that he could be that weak, before he captured her mouth again, opening his own and letting their tongues slip together as he groped her small body. Eventually, Seifer felt tears coaxing their way onto his cheek from above him, and he opened his eyes to see Fujin's good eye closed shut, crying. he could feel the sobs wracking her body as he lifted her face away, kissed her forehead and let her fall into his chest before kicking off their boots and getting up to lift her onto the bed. At this action, Fujin stiffened, and whimpered short and painfully, but Seifer shushed her, holding her close as he himself prepared to lie down beside her,
"Shh, I'm not going to leave. If I can help it, I'll get out, I'll leave Edea and it can be me you and Rajin, doing whatever we want, we can take walks and go fishing and travel and everything... Fuu? What's this?" he asked, tracing his finger from a place right under her neck down to the neckline of her shirt. Fujin shrank back in horror, just like she did when Seifer touched her scarred eye.
"PAIN"
"Who did this?"
Fujin didn't answer, she merely turned on his bed so her face was pointed at the wall. Through the thin material of her shirt he could see similar scars to the one on her eye lining down to her arms. Why hadn't he noticed them before? The one on her throat lingered until it eventually wrapped down her side to the small of her back, and he flipped her back to face him harshly,
"What happened?" he asked, a little more gently.
"HURT"
"Who? You can tell me," he tried to reassure her by placing his hand on her arm and rubbing it softly. Fujin kept silent.
Seifer closed his eyes in decrepit rage, leaning his lythe frame onto the bed, which creaked slightly as he let Fujin turn over and cry into his chest. Seifer vowed to never hurt her, no matter what the Sorceress made him do, he had a new dream now, and Fujin was in it.
Kissing her forehead, he ran his fingers through her hair, calming her as she sobbed, allowing his other arm to roam along her back until her breathing became regular and he realised he had left the blankets on the floor, and even though he was getting colder, he tried to protect Fujin from the cold, after all, isn't that what a knight is supposed to do? She stirred, and wiped her eye before nuzzling herself deeper and more comfortably into Seifer's arms and chest.
"COLD"
Seifer leaned over and grabbed the blankets, swinging the fabric over them before kissing her forehead,
"Goodnight, Fujin. You'll be here, right? When I wake up?"
"AFFIRMATIVE" Fujin yawned, draping a lazy arm over Seifer's side, and kissing his collarbone. She was the only person to ever see this side of him, even Rinoa hadn't gotten to view this Seifer, a private Seifer, a questioning Seifer. Maybe it was because they had known each other since they were little, or maybe it was the fact that they were a posse. Seifer suddenly got a mental picture of Rajin sleeping onthe bed too, and shuddered. It had to be more than that. Perhaps she just understood. Yeah, that was it, he thought, she...
Seifer fell soundly asleep as the light faded into the moon.
This Story's a little different, it has portions of a book I'm writing for a publisher, and some pages from my own journals. If you want to see the pictures described, say so in a review. All the lingo other than English is Latin. I thought it would give Fujin a bit more soul to have her be an artist.
A Seifuu. For I have found quite a lack of them. To Patience!
'What makes things final? What makes it the end? What is it in the stories that linger? What makes them complete? Is it the lack of completion? The open ended that lets the dreamers dream and the doubters theorize? Why peddle words like a beggar in the hidden corners of the world that cries, "I AM COMPLETE! SEE ME AND BE SAVED! THE END WILL BE SO BE CONTENT!" although they are still beggars in the corners that no one wishes to see. What happens when that beggar rises from the hidden corner and walks among us? Is he seen? Do they hear him? Do they listen?
Perhaps they do, perhaps they are as sleepless as I, caught in an eternal struggle to find that which proves the contentment of having nothing, of suffering much and lacking everything a hero would fight for, but I doubt it. I doubt, and am silent, I listen and am searching, I struggle and I believe, for what implies consent more than silence?'
- Novus Ordo Saeclorum "A New Order of Ages"
Seifer closed the handbound journal and tapped it against his fingers lightly before looking the volume over. It was one of many sketchbooks and journals Fujin created, all hand bound and hand made from materials she found herself; this particular one was covered in an aged greenish leather, beaten and battered by the abuse it contracted being constantly in Fujin's pack. He remembered her working furiously on it almost every day. It seemed that although Fujin said little, she wasted no words. Every word, it seemed, was begging for an answer, as if she herself were tainted and unworthy to enjoy the beggar's phrases. The following pages were chalk full of drawings and scribbles made in pencil, charcoal, whatever she could get her small hands on. Seifer could remember her frantic about reaching into her metal art box and seeing her precious charcoals and pastels crushed to dust after a gravija spell. Seifer could remember her tears ripping canyons along her pale porcelain face until Raijin would try and make her laugh. He was always trying to make people laugh. Seifer also remembered Fujin taking her delicate fingers and rubbing the dust into the paper in lines and swirls that eventually formed the pictures Seifer could see in front of him. One was different, though. The lines and swirls were bigger and wobbly, from when she took his fingers, dipped them in her precious powder and guided his hand through the dance of drawing. All in all he was pretty proud of himself, proud of what they accomplished together.
"She was trying to tell me," Seifer thought, spreading his warrior's calloused fingers gently hardly even touching the grooved and stressed paper, "She was trying to tell me that I could be that man, that I could be happy. And that I couldn't do it alone".
Seifer had thought of her every day for years, mostly because they were together every day, her, Rajin and him, a Posse, the Disciplinary Committee, "Garden" Seifer spat, siting in the darkened room. Dark except for a single window, almost a skylight far above him coating the area of the book and spilling onto the floor a glorious light, a glorious sweetness, but there wasn't enough for him. No matter how hard he tried, the only way to get himself into the light was to kneel. It occured to him that the purpose of the light was to make people turn supplicant, to tame them into breaking and allowing whatever bliss followed the light coax and wash the kneeling figure into eternal servanthood. To be master of nothing, and servant of all. Only once had Seifer Almasy been in that light, only once bathed in its glory; the last night before Fujin and Rajin left to seek Ellone in Balamb, almost two weeks ago. Rajin had gone to search for his loves: a meal and sleep so Fujin had come into his room clutching the journal and tin of powdered charcoal.
"What do you want?" he had asked, immediately apologizing for his tone. He never apologized for anything to anyone, but Fujin was different, she was so... fragile, like he could either break her completely, or help her stand taller. Having someone depend on you that much changes you, he thought, she would follow him to the end, they were a posse, but only Seifer controlled how. Seeing her clutching that stupid book and box so close to her heart as she shyly scuffled into the room was satisfying, in a way, and in another way painfully jealous to see. Seifer had been polishing his gunblade, Hyperion, and checking all of its parts, it was something he did every day. His greatcoat was strewn on his bed, and as he waived her in, she shuffled it over onto a chair and sat beside her friend. Seifer found that he couldn't speak, Fujin's muteness must be contagious he thought, finally wrapping Hyperion in the cloth he had been using to polish it, and placing it reverently back into the case. After pushing the case to the side, Fujin surprised him by kneeling directly in the light in front of Seifer's feet. It felt good, in a domineering sort of way, to have a girl kneeling in front if him, but he quickly let the thought drain out of his head, as Fujin opened the much beloved journal to the second to last page. There was writing all around that and the following pages, but she had left this one blank, for reasons Seifer would soon be able to explain. She held up the journal like a beacon, a pulpit, except instead of a cry in the desert, it was a single word,
"COME".
Seifer sat on his bed, overly huge and grandiose and wondered why they couldn't do whatever it was Fujin wanted up there, but found his knees buckling down to join her pleading, transparent eye. She smiled as she placed the book in his hand, slightly quivering from the contact, as she placed the tin box on the floor and opened it to reveal a thich ocean of multi-coloured dust merging into one black mess. It captivated Seifer, how this minute girl had grown on him through the years, her and Rajin were his only friends left, and even through and after Rinoa, Fujin was still there, kneeling in the light beside him. The light was so odd, so bright Seifer couldn't tell what was shining outside, he could only tell something was shining, stroking his face with an awesome brilliance that seemed to soak and set fire to Fujin's silver hair. Suddenly, Seifer felt like stroking it, reaching out and touching that straight silver hair flowing out of Fujin's head, but was brought back from his moment of want with her hand grabbing his and edging it over to the tin box , keeping the book suspended with her hand and his.
"Fujin... I'm no artist, I can't... it's yours" Seifer started mumbling, suddenly caught off guard, but she simply held his hand,
"HELP".
So Fujin continued, dipping Seifer's fingers in the powder ocean, and baptising them in the art of drawing. At first, his hand shook and jumped as he tried to be in control of what the picture looked like, of the vision he had in his head, until Fujin let go of his hand, and placed her fingers over his eyelids, closing his eyes.
"FEEL"
"But I can't see what I'm doing"
"AFFIRMATIVE"
"Why? Why can't I just do it the way I see it?"
"MORE"
"But..." Fujin surprised Seifer again by putting her fingers from his eyes to his lips, shushing him, then taking his hand into the charcoal ocean again. This time Seifer allowed his hand to be led, it felt odd to not be in control, to not know the outcome, to be enraptured in the touch of someone else, it felt condemning to feel her hand so softly skidding along the paper with mine, to see the light from the other side of my eyelids, almost like fire burning through. He liked fire, it consumed anything, was so destructive, yet so beautiful, it was enchanting as it burned, flickering passionately in whatever direction it saw fit. Nothing at all like Fujin. Fujin let herself be carried, drifted with the wind, but when aroused, could pound someone to the ground with invisible fury. Come to think of it, fire would just go straight up if it weren't for the wind. All that was running through his head as he let their hands drift across the page, smudging and swirling, painting a picture he couldn't see, but every second of not seeing, of not knowing made it okay. The picture was either going to be a complete mess or completely beautiful, and what did Seifer care? The sketchbook wasn't his. Their hands jerked as Seifer's muscles again tried to take control. He could feel Fujin frown, but she just took their hands off the page and dipped them in the dust again, this time putting her hand into Seifer's as he surprised himself by intertwining their fingers and moving in the same directions. After what seemed like forever, Fujin lifted their hands, and Seifer felt a tinge of loss at the empty air he had been resorted to.
"OPEN" Fujin commanded, her voice sounding so real.
Seifer opened his eyes and saw the beggar, deep bluish black outstretched in a surrounding circle of black tinted with what seemed like red and orange pastel. The red and orange faded into the corners, and there were tiny white spaces, and he could see where he messed up and was too harsh, but other than that it didn't look half bad. Seifer smiled, suddenly interested in what Fujin had written, in what graced the other pages of her book, but instead of revealing the other pages, she rose, and as she stood, she covered the light.
"PREPARE" she said, pivoting to go.
"No, stay. Just for a little while? Please?" Seifer shocked himself again, it hadn't been that long since he gave up trying with Rinoa, but he found himself doing things with Fujin that he had never thought possible with Rinoa, besides, he could tell she had the hots for Squall. Thinking about Squall made him want to fight, to reach back, grab Hyperion and go fight whatever came at him. Then he realised he was still kneeling in the middle of his room holding Fujin's hand, begging her to stay. Instead of saying he was pathetic and storming out like he thought she would, she knelt back down, closed the lid of her tin box still on the floor, placed the journal beside it and held Seifer's hands, spreading his fingers so that their hands were touching each other ourstretched, his calloused hands far engulfing her sliced and scared digits. As she brought their hands up, Seifer's breathing grew heavier, suddenly unable to control himself as a soft breeze flooded the air around them as Fujin manipulated it with magic. They were in the center of the breeze together, the air tuggin at him, bringing him closer, until their noses were almost touching and Fujin opened her eye, basking in the feel of her hair partially blowing in the breeze. Before he knew what he was doing, Seifer took his hand and tugged at the eye patch covering Fujin's left eye, and the winds burst out stronger as the book flipped open with the sudden gush of wind,
"NEGATIVE" Fujin said weakly, she had never sounded so fragile, but she found she couldn't move. Seifer tugged the patch off all the way and gulped slightly at the hideous scar jaggedly careening from the bridge of Fujin's nose to a little past the end of her eye, welding it forever shut. Her breaths grew ragged,
"HIDEOUS" Fujin pleaded, downcasting her eyes and letting her hands fall to her sides, but Seifer took a hand, opened the fingers and traced his own scar with Fujin's fingers, letting her hand linger there as his other hand curled around her waist before he peeled his own fingers apart and felt all the way across Fujin's scar.
"We've all got scars, Fujin"
"EMBARASSED"
"Why?"
"FAULT"
"Beautiful" Seifer heard himself say, softer and kinder than he had even dreamed possible coming from his mouth. Fujin's unscarred eye lept up at his, searching and scanning for something true, for one thing about what he said that he meant. She found a tear straining to cascade down his face, and pressed her fingers to her lips, then placed them on the tear as it fell,
"I'm not supposed to cry?" Seifer whispered, as Fujin's fingers, still dressed in his lone tear pressed against his lips as his grip on her waist tightened and he brought her closer to him. Seifer's back slid back and hit his bed, as Fujin fell against him, placing her hands around his neck and kissing him securely, of which he reciprocated and found his hands roaming Fujin's back, face and neck before gently lifting her chin in his hand and pulling her face lightly away.
"What are we doing?"
"COMFORT" the enigmatic silver vixen answered, leaning her hands against his chest and laying her head on her hands.
"Is that all?" he said, searching for something that could explain the nervous feeling in his gut. Of course he had kissed Rinoa before, but nothing in his time with Rinoa could amount to the pure passion and lingering presence that would haunt his mind.
"GOODBYE" Fujin replied, a tear falling freely from her eye, as Seifer realised that Fujin thought she would never see him again. She's afraid to die he thought, we're afraid we'll never see each other again. Woa, where did that come from, he thought, as he reached for her chin and pulled her carefully up to where he kissed her eyelids while wiping her tears with his thumb.
"Shh, Fuu, It's okay, it's gonna be okay, it has to be okay, we have to be okay, okay?"
Seifer let the words cascade without censuring them,
"I don't know what I feel, but it isn't bad, I'm not mad, or hurt or anything, I'm scared that the end is coming and that I don't know what we're going to do, I'm scared of death, of knowing I'll see Squall again, and I'm scared I'll never see you again, that one of us will die..."
"NO!" Fujin wailed, kissing Seifer again, letting all her feelings and emotions, worry, doubt, friendship, caring, love... love. A love that was reciprocated with Seifer's lips as his hormones and instincts took control of his body and he let himself go, just like in the picture. Was that what she came in for? To say goodbye, to get me to let go? Seifer thought, before gasping for breath and letting their backs slip down to the floor, blankets coming with them, Fujin on top of him now, devoid of her blue jacket that she had chucked into the corner with her eyepatch. Taking a quick breath again, Seifer looked up at the girl, so wounded, so frail, do full of power he never would have thought she could be that weak, then again, he never wanted to accept that he could be that weak, before he captured her mouth again, opening his own and letting their tongues slip together as he groped her small body. Eventually, Seifer felt tears coaxing their way onto his cheek from above him, and he opened his eyes to see Fujin's good eye closed shut, crying. he could feel the sobs wracking her body as he lifted her face away, kissed her forehead and let her fall into his chest before kicking off their boots and getting up to lift her onto the bed. At this action, Fujin stiffened, and whimpered short and painfully, but Seifer shushed her, holding her close as he himself prepared to lie down beside her,
"Shh, I'm not going to leave. If I can help it, I'll get out, I'll leave Edea and it can be me you and Rajin, doing whatever we want, we can take walks and go fishing and travel and everything... Fuu? What's this?" he asked, tracing his finger from a place right under her neck down to the neckline of her shirt. Fujin shrank back in horror, just like she did when Seifer touched her scarred eye.
"PAIN"
"Who did this?"
Fujin didn't answer, she merely turned on his bed so her face was pointed at the wall. Through the thin material of her shirt he could see similar scars to the one on her eye lining down to her arms. Why hadn't he noticed them before? The one on her throat lingered until it eventually wrapped down her side to the small of her back, and he flipped her back to face him harshly,
"What happened?" he asked, a little more gently.
"HURT"
"Who? You can tell me," he tried to reassure her by placing his hand on her arm and rubbing it softly. Fujin kept silent.
Seifer closed his eyes in decrepit rage, leaning his lythe frame onto the bed, which creaked slightly as he let Fujin turn over and cry into his chest. Seifer vowed to never hurt her, no matter what the Sorceress made him do, he had a new dream now, and Fujin was in it.
Kissing her forehead, he ran his fingers through her hair, calming her as she sobbed, allowing his other arm to roam along her back until her breathing became regular and he realised he had left the blankets on the floor, and even though he was getting colder, he tried to protect Fujin from the cold, after all, isn't that what a knight is supposed to do? She stirred, and wiped her eye before nuzzling herself deeper and more comfortably into Seifer's arms and chest.
"COLD"
Seifer leaned over and grabbed the blankets, swinging the fabric over them before kissing her forehead,
"Goodnight, Fujin. You'll be here, right? When I wake up?"
"AFFIRMATIVE" Fujin yawned, draping a lazy arm over Seifer's side, and kissing his collarbone. She was the only person to ever see this side of him, even Rinoa hadn't gotten to view this Seifer, a private Seifer, a questioning Seifer. Maybe it was because they had known each other since they were little, or maybe it was the fact that they were a posse. Seifer suddenly got a mental picture of Rajin sleeping onthe bed too, and shuddered. It had to be more than that. Perhaps she just understood. Yeah, that was it, he thought, she...
Seifer fell soundly asleep as the light faded into the moon.