For summonerluna; the prompt was, "Irvine, Time Compression."
re:action
-irishais-
The fog is waist-deep, but there is something profoundly wrong with it, threading around his thighs, spiderwebs. When Irvine runs his fingers through the stuff, it sticks to his hands, and he has to shake it loose.
"Selphie!"
His voice echoes, punctuated by thunder.
His voice echoes, and comes back hollow.
There is something ahead, a great beast of a thing, and he shoulders Exeter. The recoil is a comfort; there is a sickening crunch as his bullet hits something- he isn't sure what. There's a shout, and Squall's voice, crying out orders.
Irvine takes three steps in that direction. But there is a flash of yellow, starshine in the gray, gray sky. He moves before he knows what he's doing.
Selphie!
He chases forever, forever, his boots sticky sluggish in the clouds. When he comes close enough to reach out for her, she evaporates under his touch, a mirage lost and all the air around him is gone.
It tastes like honey over fire, this searing horror going down his throat and to his heart and exploding out of his chest. He clutches at the spot, feeling, feeling.
It takes seconds to process the sensation; it takes a lifetime. When he looks at his hands, he expects to see his heart there, a lump of red muscle pulsing out its final beats between his palms, but his hands are clean.
His hands have never been clean.
He sees them newmade, large and weatherworn and calloused and tanned and with his cuticles all picked away and his nails ragged beyond belief. Have they always looked like this?
The storm breaks, and the clouds roil around his legs, grabbing at him, dragging him down, clawing at his legs and ripping through flesh.
Somewhere, a witch is dying.
Somewhere, a witch has won.
Selphie's name escapes his lips before everything collapses around him. There is nothing, nothing left, just the maw beneath his boots.
He surrenders, and he falls.
xx
Irvy, she whispers, Irvy, open your eyes.
It's so, so hard.
C'mon, Irvy.
I can't, darlin'.
C'mon, you can do it, open your eyes, I'm here, I'm right here
Someone is squeezing his hand, rhythmically, a pulsebeat that he cannot ignore. When he finally, finally gives in to the pleading, all he sees is a glittering halo of sunlight.
It resolves itself into Selphie's smile, and it is the most beautiful thing he has seen.
