Shelinda's Secret
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy X or Final Fantasy X-2 or any of the characters therein.
Shelinda was always concerned about her tiny flat in Luca. The source of her worries lay with the growing number of Sphere Hunters throughout Spira – Sphere Hunters that were sometimes little better than common thieves, to tell the truth. And Shelinda kept a sphere in her home, her sphere. It was one of the best grade of spheres, because it had come directly from Macalania. The Macalania Tribes did not hand over their best grade spheres to just anyone; these spheres could be left at the mercy of the elements for decades and still be playable. These spheres, then, were generally found in the hands of high profile people such as the Head Priests of temples and, of course, the Maesters of Yevon. Although it was difficult to wrestle such an enduring object out of the Macalania Tribes now (or anything else besides music and befuddling rhymes, for that matter), she supposed that in the time when Zanarkhand still flourished, they must have been quite common. All the spheres people were unearthing from that time period seemed to work fine, in spite of their age. She wondered why that kind of sphere was so difficult to come by in modern times. Perhaps Macalania had been damaged in some way when Sin first appeared, and these spheres were more difficult to make as a result?
And yet, there might be more to it than that. To her knowledge, she'd never seen the Guado using anything but the highest grade of sphere. And the Guado had an even higher grade of sphere than that. They showed these treasures to only a select few, so not that many people knew they even existed. The three spheres rested high above the banquet hall, the source of the soothing aquamarine light that filled the room; why the Guado found it necessary to disguise them as lamps, she'd never know. Then again, maybe it was all to the good. Up until recently, Guadosalam had been filled to the brim with Sphere Hunters and completely devoid of Guado. And yet not a single Sphere Hunter had seen through the clever disguise! The spheres remained where they were, and probably always would. She had never seen any other spheres like them, not even in Bevelle, at least not that she'd been able to discern during her brief stay there. She had only ever witnessed the contents of one of these spheres – what secrets the other two held she did not know. As to how someone such as her had managed that, well…..
Shelinda's sphere usually rested on the edge of a small wooden table right next to her bed. She need have no fear of it falling off – she could probably bludgeon a Fiend to death with the thing, such was its durability. Her flat was a small two-roomer, with kitchen, living room, and bedroom all combined, and the other room being a tiny bathroom. Its cramped space and location would have been a source of complaint for anyone else, but Shelinda couldn't have been happier. Its out-of-the-way proximity ensured that no one she didn't know would be likely to find it. Its small space ensured that she would not lose her most precious treasure, the sphere. Shelinda did not have any neighbors. Her tiny hovel was the only one built into the alleyway. This was fine with her, too. No neighbors meant no one to keep an eye on her. No one to knock on the door when they heard mournful lamentations and angry yells coming from the apartment at odd hours of day and night. No one to bother her. Just the way she needed it.
Because that was why she had selected this place. That was the only reason she came here at all, really. She came here to weep, to scream, to curse herself. Other than as a place for release, she had no connection to her tiny apartment. This place was not her home. A home was a place where people who you loved were always waiting for you when you got back. This place certainly didn't qualify. It hadn't always been like this, though. She had had a home once. A place she was always meant to live in. A place she should have been able to go back to, over and over again, for her entire life. That place, and everyone she loved, was currently submerged under a lake. She had not been there when it had happened. She had been called to Bevelle by Grand Maester Mica, and had stayed there for some time. After Grand Maester Mica's death had been confirmed, there had been talk of appointing her as the next Grand Maester. The people's goodwill towards her was strong, as it was she who had taken the helm of leadership in Bevelle when the Grand Maester suddenly disappeared. It was she who had got word to all of Spira to sing the Hymn of the Fayth when the Al Bhed ship appeared in the sky. Of course, the suggestion was quickly crushed by Mica's followers, who howled that tradition dictated that Praetor Trema, Mica's second in command, should inherit leadership of Yevon. When Trema disappeared, much like Mica before him, there had been yet another debate over who should lead. This time they came much closer to electing her as Grand Maester, but then Praetor Baralai had appeared to assert his irrefutable claim, and that had been that. She had left Bevelle, then, and had been happy to leave, if she was honest with herself. But Macalania Temple was not waiting for her.
Her connection with Macalania Temple was how she had come across that special sphere. She had been the daughter of the Captain of the Temple Guard, and her grandfather was Head Priest before Jyscal was given the position. In truth, her grandfather had even been a Maester once. He had competed with Mica for the position of Grand Maester long ago, when her father was just a baby, but had given up and left Bevelle when his wife, her grandmother, died suddenly. She had never learned how her grandmother died, but her grandfather had sometimes hinted that he knew. And yet he had never told her. What he did tell her, however, was to stay well away from Bevelle – it was a bad place all around, he had said, and the people in it were not as pious and virtuous as they would have others believe. After seeing the way Mica's cronies clung to his coattails even after he was dead, she finally understood what her grandfather had been trying to say. Her family had traditionally led the Macalania Temple, but they gave that position to Jyscal when the Lord of the Guado became a Maester. Her grandfather and father had not been bitter about the transition. They almost seemed happy.
"Better the Guado than Mica's backstabbing crowd." She had heard her grandfather say to her father in a low voice. She had not understood them at all then, but she thought she did now. She had been about five. The night after Jyscal was officially ordained as a Maester and the new High Priest, there was a celebration at Macalania Temple to welcome not only him but also the Guado. They had previously not been allowed in the temple (at least as far as Bevelle knew – she had seen her grandfather invite them in many a time), but now they could come and go as they pleased. That was where she had met him. They were three years apart in age, he three years older, she three years younger. He was still shy, then. That had been before he was sent off to Baaj Island. He was wearing those yellow robes. She supposed he dressed in yellow because Jyscal always did. His hair was still short, his single bang and the two off-shooting strands had not reached the prominence they would in later years. He had been a quiet child who cried easily. She had been there to comfort him, though, for as long as he would stay in Macalania. Their first meeting had been recorded by her father on the sphere that now sat on her bedside table. It was the only memento she had of any of them, now. Even Anima, Seymour's mother, made an appearance in the sphere.
She had been showing signs of illness even then. The woman had led such a hard life. Birthing a half-Guado child had been difficult on her as it was, but Anima brought more derision on herself by trying to shield her son from the abuse that awaited him. She and Jyscal always looked so….strained. No wonder Seymour had been quiet and nervous as a young child, being around those two all the time. Not to say anything bad about either of them – Anima had been an attentive mother, almost overprotective. That's probably why she chose to become a Fayth rather than just die. She still wanted to be able to protect him. Jyscal, on the other hand, had always been rather distant where his son was concerned, apparently out of a desire to encourage independence on Seymour's part. Shelinda's memory of Jyscal was as a second grandfather. His mouth would always curve up in a smile when he addressed her, and his eyes sparkled. Piercing blue eyes, just like Seymour's. He never showed his teeth, though. She remembered, when she and Seymour first met, that he had smiled at her, and his canines were like the fearsome fangs of a Fiend. She had screamed before she could stop herself. She noticed that after that time, he never showed his teeth when he smiled. The fact that she had inspired such a self-conscious behavior in him made her feel unbearable guilt. She had never wanted to hurt him, ever. She had been his only true friend, then and ever.
She had cried when he left for Baaj. She had stood at Luca port and waved and sobbed as he and Anima were shuttled off into exile. He was ten and she was seven, and he had cried as well. They had embraced defiantly before he got on the boat, and had to be pulled apart forcefully by the Guado sailors. She thought she had seen tears in their eyes as they did so. Strange, as it was apparently the Guado who had demanded the exile as an appeasement. They had been apart, then, for six years. It was only upon losing him that she truly understood how much she had needed him there with her. Every year that passed she missed him more, and by the time she was thirteen she felt as if she'd die of she didn't see him right now. Wonder of wonders, she had gotten her wish. Jyscal declared that Seymour would return, and the Guado put forth no argument. With a knowing twinkle in his eye he had asked she and her father to sail to the island and retrieve him. By then, he had been without a mother for almost three years, and they found the island shattered by an earthquake. When she saw that it was nearly submerged, her heart cried out in despair. Surely he had drowned or been buried! They went to what remained of the temple with all haste, but could not find anything. Then a Fiend attacked her, and Seymour suddenly shot out of the water like a leaping fish and tore the Fiend limb from limb with his claw-like hands and fang-like canines. He was still alive, still wearing the rags of those yellow robes, although they no longer fit and he had instead fashioned them into a sort of loincloth. He was very much a wild child, not at all the morose boy she remembered. He seemed quite happy with his feral freedom.
He put forth no complaint when they told him they had come to take him away, but a shadow of sorrow seemed to pass over his features. On the boat ride back to Luca, her father and the crew had left the two to themselves. She had been too nervous and elated to speak at first, and Seymour offered up no conversation either. She took a moment to examine him. He was only sixteen years old, but had already developed an impressive build. Her eyes drifted almost involuntarily to the scant pieces of cloth tied around his waste. She turned her eyes away shyly when she realized he noticed that she was looking at him, and that he was looking at her out of the corner of his eye, watching her watching him. She desperately tried to think of something to say.
"I never liked those yellow robes." She said the first thing that came to mind, and just her luck it was something totally unsuited to the situation.
"Oh? Neither did I." He admitted. Then he turned to her and smiled slyly, and her cheeks burned red. "What colors would you recommend for my new robes?"
She examined him for a moment. His indigo hair had grown much longer, and the single bangs and off-shooting strands were reaching their full prominence.
"Blue." She said. The word drifted out of her mouth almost involuntarily, more a comment than an actual suggestion.
"More of it?" He laughed, pointing at his hair. She desperately tried to take it back, but he took her hands in his and apologetically told her he liked her idea.
"I missed you! I missed you so very much!" She blurted out suddenly, at the top of her lungs, looking deeply into his hypnotic blue eyes, with his long fingers gripping her hands gently. He smiled, this time showing his teeth. And he laughed again. It seemed to her now she had not relished that laugh enough.
"And I you. Baaj was so lonely." He said, his voice dropping to almost a whisper, and his eyes turned to look at the horizon. His mother had died when he was twelve. The rest of the time he'd had to fend for himself, and had done so remarkably well, even after the quake nearly drowned him. He had survived on raw fish for almost a year before they came to get him, and his swimming abilities were amazing. He could have been a great Blitzball player, if he really wanted to. Maybe he had wanted to – he had befriended that Blitzball player, Wakka, when he passed through Macalania on his Pilgrimage with Father Zed. The two had gotten along well, and in the time Wakka spent in Guadosalam and Macalania she would often hear them laughing together or see them practicing in the lake. She was happy to see he had another friend besides just her, and felt terrible for him when Wakka finally left. It seemed to her that, the longer he studied at Bevelle, the more he was drifting away from her. His lessons in Bevelle should not have deprived her of him overmuch, as Macalania and Bevelle were right next to each other, but somehow she rarely saw him after that boat ride. He rarely smiled the genuine smile she used to see – rather something about it became forced, even sorrowful. And he never laughed again, at least not the laugh that she knew. What escaped him after his entrance into Bevelle was a sort of dry chuckle, and there was little mirth in it.
Her final tender moment with him had come on her sixteenth birthday. Nuns who planned to train in Bevelle were sent there at sixteen, meaning she would not return to Macalania for some time once her training began. A great fuss was made about it, both in Macalania and in Guadosalam. Jyscal insisted on throwing a combined birthday/farewell party at the Lord's Manor in her honor. The rest of Spira saw the Guado as withdrawn, xenophobic, and generally "no fun." However, this stereotype couldn't be further from the truth. The Guado had a sense of humor, but it was slightly on the dry and sardonic side. They enjoyed their festivals, but preferred to have privacy while doing so. From what she could tell, the Guado were acutely uneasy about displaying strong emotion around people from other tribes. Only around those they trusted could they truly allow themselves to relax. Most of the time, this category referred to other Guado, but in this case it referred to herself and her family. The Guado Glories were in fine form that night. At games they were serious and terse, reinforcing most Spirans' misconceptions about their tribe, but in truth they were the most jovial of their kind. This was true of Navara Guado in particular. He was more likely than any other Guado she'd met to launch off into goofy behavior around strangers. Come to think of it, he was also the only blond she'd ever seen amongst the Guado. She wondered why that was. She'd asked Seymour once and he'd said it was "a special secret" and winked at her. Pah Guado was Seymour's cousin and Tromell's granddaughter, and served as a sort of voice of reason amongst the sometimes zany group. Another of the blitzball players who was special to her was Yuma Guado, the twin sister of Auda Guado, who was not an actual member of the team but rather a Free Agent. Yuma had previously been one of the most promising members of the Guado Gaurdians but had quit for reasons she would not explain. She treated Shelinda as a little sister, and always silently protected her from the shadows. Noy and Giera were twins, she'd been told, but after getting to know them she'd realized they were alike only in appearance. Giera had a fiery temper and biting sarcastic streak, while Noy was never anything but calm and polite. Zazi was laid back and gregarious, sort of like a less intense Navara.
As the night was winding down, and the banquet hall grew empty, she suddenly found herself alone there with Seymour. He told her he had something he wanted to show her, and suddenly one of the lamp-spheres switched on. She found herself and Seymour hovering side by side above Zanarkhand in all its glory. He told her that Zanarkhand's name meant "glorious haven", and that it had once been a refuge for all peoples to call home. When they saw Zaon go to meet Yunalesca, he had told her that Zaon had been a prince of Bevelle who defected to Zanarkhand's side when Bevelle declared war. He and Yunalesca had genuinely been in love, but it was a love destined to end in tragedy. The two lovers were separated eternally by Zaon's death and Yunalesca's self-imposed duty to stand vigil as a Fayth, never allowed to die and rejoin him. Their feelings were true, but even true love was not enough to save them from this fate. They could not be together, no matter how much they wanted to, he told her. It seemed to her in that moment he had been talking about the two of them, not the figures they watched on the sphere. She soon forgot her moment of unease when he offered to walk her back to Macalania Temple. Deba, the Matriarch of the tribe of tall, willowy bird-like musicians, played them a beautiful song on her harp as they trekked back through Macalania Wood, arm in arm, and she thought she would not be able to contain her joy. And that was how she had come to see the Guado's cherished sphere of Zanarkhand. She still puzzled over why Seymour had shown it to her, and what the significance of his story had been.
There was a great deal of talk about herself and Seymour in Bevelle. She was the granddaughter of the previous High Priest, he the son of the current one. Marrying the two seemed only natural. It would bind the two families together nicely and ensure that no bitterness remained between them. How it made her heart sing when she would overhear this gossip! She loved him! He was her first, her last, her only. She wanted to stand by his side, for the rest of his days. If she became his wife, she would never allow him to be lonely ever again. And here was the source of all her tear-filled nights and lonely tirades in the present time. For all that she had wanted it, she hesitated. Protocol and class held her back. How could she hope to approach him? He was already ordained as a priest and destined to take over his father's position as a Maester. She was a mere acolyte, and was far away from achieving the title of nun. It seemed to her that her mentors in Bevelle were trying to hold her back. For all her dedication and piety, nothing she did pleased them. Could it have had something to do with her grandfather and the rivalry he had once had with Grand Maester Mica? But that had been so long ago….
The years flew by, Seymour became ever more distant from her, and she made frustratingly little headway in her quest to become a nun. Finally, in desperation, she left Bevelle to try and gain some sort of fame that would allow her to go over the heads of her mentors and be ordained anyway. And so she had headed in the direction of Mushroom Rock, hoping to convince the Crusaders to repent and stop using Machina. That went as horribly as one might imagine. Worse than the mockery she received from the Crusaders was Seymour's fury upon realizing she was there. Rather than being born of embarrassment, though, it more seemed to be the product of worry. He had calmed down when she told him she had no intention of fighting with the Crusaders, that she would only provide healing for them, and that, yes, she would stay well away when the fighting began. It was strange, though. Seymour had at first been convinced that Maester Kinoc or someone else of high standing within the church had ordered her here, and had looked much relieved when she had told him that was not the case. After that had been established, he went back to studiously ignoring her as if he'd never met her before in his life. What made this behavior so frustrating was that she had no idea why he was doing it. He didn't seem embarrassed by his association with her, so what reason could he possibly have? It had all become clear after Sin charged the shore and ended the lives of dozens of people, however. She had been worried sick about him when the fighting began and had had to resist the temptation to run out on the battlefield to make sure he was all right. Then, when the smoke had cleared and she'd buckled down and begun healing the wounded, she saw him with her. What words they exchanged she did not know, but it had nonetheless made her guilty to feel jealousy towards someone who had so earnestly offered her encouragement but a few hours before.
After that humiliating and depressing affair, she had turned back, heading toward Guadosalam. She had felt defeated after the failure at Mushroom Rock, not leastways because, if she had succeeded in convincing the Crusaders to give up on the Operation, many of them would still be alive now. She decided to ask her grandfather and father for advice on how best to achieve the title of nun. Although she already knew they'd say what they always did. "Forget the high brass in Bevelle, we'll complete your training as a nun." She could see the sense in it, but such a solution would further separate her from Seymour. He wouldn't watch over Macalania Temple forever; eventually his duties as Maester would force him to appoint another High Priest to take his place. Priests and nuns who were ordained in temples besides the Palace of St. Bevelle never rose to great prominence in the political arena, at least not to the point where they could stand side by side with Maesters. If she wanted access to Seymour's world, she would have to be ordained in Bevelle, although that was beginning to look impossible. A rather nasty shock awaited her in Guadosalam, however. As she was waiting for the storm to pass in the cave that led out to the Thunder Plains, she saw Seymour, Tromell, and two Guado Guardians coming towards her. When she inquired as to where they were going, Seymour quietly told her he was going to Macalania. There had been something strange about his voice – he'd sounded as if he were headed to his own execution.
Normal travelers were waylaid by particularly strong storms that sometimes passed over the Thunder Plains, but not so the Guado. No matter how bad the eternal storm over the Thunder Plains got, the Guado's ability to travel through it was totally unaffected. She had no idea how they managed this. They almost seemed to disappear as soon as they took a few strides forward, as if they transformed into mist. Seymour and his entourage were no different. It almost felt like meeting them had been a dream. She wandered back inside towards Guadosalam in a daze and almost ran smack into one of Lady Yuna's Guardians, the one called Tidus. He asked if she had seen Seymour, in a scandalously informal manner. His tone indicated he had no love for the half-Guado. He reminded her of the boys who had tormented Seymour as a child, and all at once she found herself getting angry at him. She gravely reprimanded him for not calling Seymour by his proper title, although she would have rather scolded him for his lack of empathy. He had seemed surprised he had gone to Macalania so suddenly, and had rushed off to tell the others. Not a moment after that she had heard the Guado muttering conspiratorially that Lord Seymour and Lady Yuna would soon be wed. Her heart had shattered on impact, so she hadn't noticed it at the time, but the Guado certainly didn't sound happy about it. They sounded more….worried. She supposed that was understandable. This decision on Seymour's part seemed incredibly impulsive to her, so perhaps the other Guado felt the same way. How many times had he spoken to her by then, maybe three or four? And he couldn't have known her for more than a few weeks!
After she was done freaking out, she once again resolved (curse it!) to not be true to her feelings. She found an excuse not to cry, not to scream, not to rush to him and confess her feelings before it was too late. She wanted Seymour to be happy. She wanted him to be happy with her, not Yuna, granted, but if being with Yuna would make him happier, she was willing to stand by and let him. So she forced herself to act like she was elated with the engagement when she once again met up with Tidus on the Thunder Plains. He, in a moment of unintentional cruelty, informed her that, no, Lord Seymour and Lady Yuna would not be wed. This lie was exposed for what it was the second she bumped into O'aka at the inn and listened to him cursing Rin for all the money the Al Bhed entrepreneur was going to make off the wedding celebrations. Which led her to an amusing discovery – Tidus must have been jealous, meaning that he was in love with Yuna much the same way she was in love with Seymour. Her suspicions were confirmed when he looked distinctly sullen at the wedding party. She made a point of needling him about this. He went off in a huff and spoke to her father for a while. And then Yima, an acolyte at the temple who had been Shelinda's friend since childhood, ran out of the guest room screaming about having found a horrible sphere in Lady Yuna's belongings.
What Yima had been doing pawing through Lady Yuna's travel satchel, Shelinda had no idea. She had never rifled through the luggage of any of the other pilgrims in all the years Shelinda had known her. She supposed none of Yuna's Guardians had commented on this at the time because….because…well, she didn't know why. One of them really should have. She had cornered Yima later regarding this and grilled her until her friend tearfully told her that the command had come from Tromell, who had been ordered by Seymour to tell her to look for the sphere in Lady Yuna's belongings and make a big fuss about it when she found it. To say that this made absolutely no sense was an understatement. It was like Seymour was trying to not only pick a fight with her Guardians but ruin any chance he had of marrying Yuna in one fell swoop. She had then poured the pressure on an extremely reluctant Yima to tell her what the sphere contained, because surely she must know. The sphere was of Jyscal, she said finally, and it was his testimony that his son, Seymour, had murdered him. She was horrified at the time, but upon further reflection she had been more able to understand his reasons for wanting to kill Jyscal than Yuna's panicked Guardians. After all, she had been there to witness the ways in which his father had failed him. While the other Guardians spoke of storming the Chamber of the Fayth, Wakka tried to caution them against it. He made no mention of his previously friendly relations with Seymour, so they merely assumed it was because of his piety and devotion to Yevon. She wished they would have listened to him instead of charging in there without thinking.
All the while, Yuna's Guardians had been talking about these treasonous things, at the top of their lungs, in the middle of a temple swarming with Warrior Monks (slightly tipsy Warrior Monks but Warrior Monks nonetheless), and yet no one had raised a hand to stop them. Yima had later confessed that the whole temple had been instructed – by Seymour – to turn a blind eye to whatever the Guardians did. Even if it did end up costing him his life. None of it made any sense whatsoever. After Yuna and her party had been branded traitors by Tromell and chased off by Guado Guardians (who had finally decided to pay attention to what was going on), she begged to be allowed to visit Seymour. She had still been under the impression he was only wounded. She had also not known about Jyscal's Sphere at that point, or of the mysterious orders he had issued to everyone in the temple. She was finally allowed in after much whispered debate between Tromell and her father, and found him looking quite possibly the worst she'd ever seen him. He was pale as a corpse and was obviously in despair, the despair of a man who knew that his life had been ended, permanently, and there was nothing to be done about it. The words he spoke to her next would be the last she would ever hear from him. He told her not to cry (and she had been crying, hard), that he would be fine (the liar), and that she should not worry for him. He said he wanted her to be happy above all else, and he smiled at her very warmly. Then his eyes shot over to the door, and suddenly he lost consciousness. When she turned to call for help, she saw then that the door had been opened a tiny crack, and that the priest who guarded the Cloister of Trials had been watching them through it. She recalled he had been appointed there from Bevelle when Seymour had been officially ordained the Head Priest.
The Guado were a very thoughtful people, and she had never once seen any of them jump up and say something stupid that they'd come to regret later. She'd never seen them strike out in blind anger, either. The Guado always thought first and acted afterward. That's why, to someone who knew them as well as she did, their behavior on Bikanel was so….un-Guado-like. If they wanted Lady Yuna, she would have thought it more akin to their nature to just wait until she left Bikanel and strike her then. But to just up and attack Bikanel like that, with seemingly no reason? Everyone had been screaming about how the Guado were throwing Spira into uncertainty, but at the time it had seemed to Shelinda that the Guado were the only ones diving headfirst into chaos. Another thing that Shelinda thought needed to be pointed out was this – how had the Guado known where to find Home? It wasn't as if the Al Bhed base on Bikanel Island was common knowledge, so how had they gotten there so fast? The Guado had refused to comment on the Bikanel incident at all when she'd asked them about it – they seemed ashamed of it.
The rest was history. Seymour holed himself up in Bevelle after that, where for whatever reason the wedding between himself and Lady Yuna was still held. It had been a disaster from what she had heard, degenerating into a huge gun fight between Warrior Monks and Al Bhed riding in some bizarre flying Machina. Not long after that, Seymour disappeared completely, and not even the Guado knew where he had gone. She was summoned to Bevelle by none other than Grand Maester Mica himself, and ("in light of your family's meritorious service in the name of Yevon") appointed Captain of the Guard of the Palace of St. Bevelle! Talk about a change of fortune! Then again, Yevon's grip on the world had begun to slip, and it turned out that the Crusaders that had survived Operation Mi'ihen had been singing her praises to every Yevon official they could find, so she supposed Mica realized he could do worse than her. She never did find out what befell the old Captain of the Guard, but she'd heard rumors he'd been found hanging in his quarters with his throat jaggedly torn, as if by claws, and his blood painted all over the walls in indecipherable symbols. She was told by Mica that the charges brought against Yuna were an evil lie orchestrated by the Al Bhed to upset the order of Yevon. Of course, she'd known this was a lie – she'd been there when Lady Yuna and her Guardians had done the deed – but didn't like the thought of what would probably happen to her if she made an issue out of it. When she had asked him if he knew where Seymour was, he had shuddered and told her "not to mention that name again."
Then, when Lady Yuna and her Guardians came calling, Mica suddenly disappeared on everyone (just like Seymour, ironically enough) and left her as the only one to fill the void in the chain of command. Then came her all too brief period as the sole holder of power in Bevelle. The only thing she really did was the organization of the first attempts to rebuild the section of the city crushed by Sin. After that, she had been booted out, and made her way back to Macalania Temple. But she found she could not bear to stay in a place that so reminded her of Seymour, and had, the day after her arrival, headed for Guadosalam. That night, Macalania Temple sank into the lake, along with everyone in it, this including her entire family, her friend Yima, and the few Guado who hadn't fled the temple after Seymour's disappearance. She was alone in the world for the first time in her life, and she felt that now she understood how Seymour must have felt while he was marooned on Baaj Island. Exactly how the temple sank had never been fully explained, but the people at the Travel Agency swore they heard explosives going off before it happened, and a lot of them. This immediately made her think of the Al Bhed. The Guado had been in charge of the temple until very recently, and the Al Bhed certainly had reason to want revenge after the Guado attack on Home. The Al Bhed at the Travel Agency certainly hadn't looked very happy that the temple was gone, however. They were of the suspicion that Yevon had done this to its own, although this sounded so outlandish Shelinda could not bring herself to consider it as a possibility.
When she visited the Farplane, she saw her whole family there. She was the last of the stewards of Macalania Temple, but the temple was no more. She also saw someone else on the Farplane, the last person she had wanted to see. Seymour. She had wanted to hold out hope that he was still alive, but no, even that was denied her. She had broken down, then, crumpled to the floor and wept. Tromell had kneeled down and patted her head comfortingly, telling her he was sorry, although what he had to be sorry about she still didn't understand. She had left for Luca not long afterward. The truth was she could not stand to see the Guado in such a state of defeat. The way the rest of Spira had quickly gone about blaming the Guado for everything they could possibly think of repulsed her. Even after some of the heat had switched to Yevon, the Guado still bore more than their fair share of the blame. They bore it in silence, offering up neither explanation nor apology. The Guado had become very insular of late, more withdrawn and aloof than she had ever seen them. She realized they must be reverting to the way they had been before their conversion to Yevon. Maybe if they had stayed that way they wouldn't have had to endure all this hardship. Maybe all the Guado Guardians that had been scythed down by Lady Yuna and her Guardians or blown to bits during the ill-fated attack on the Al Bhed Home would still be alive. And when she thought about it like that, she could understand why Seymour would want to kill his own father. She could see how Jyscal might have deserved his fate. The Guado finally fled Guadosalam for Macalania Woods; she supposed they must have gone there to be with the Musician tribes. Even when they returned to Guadosalam, seemingly blessed with new hope for the future, something felt….off. The way they were acting seemed forced, as if they were trying to put on a good face for the rest of Spira while on the inside they felt quite different. And why they were acting as if this was the first time they'd noticed the Macalania Musician tribes was beyond her. They'd always been allies, hadn't they?
Shelinda was surprised to find Djose Temple had been deserted by the priests who had previously lived there. Already the Al Bhed were swooping in like vultures to claim it. She was surprised they dared – the stewards had left out of fear that a disaster similar to what happened to Macalania Temple would befall Djose. The Al Bhed didn't seem afraid, though. She wondered about that. When she got to Luca, she found the priests of Djose temple had divested themselves of their priestly robes and were working as technicians for the Sphere Network. They had recognized her and, after hearing her sob story, offered her a job. So, she was the new Sphere Announcer. But she had a suspicion she would be replaced soon. Shaami, the woman who had been the Announcer before she had, and who was now acting as writer and director for the Sphere Network, was much more popular and people were starting to call for her return. If Shelinda had to give up her post, she resolved herself that she wanted to do a final broadcast, one of her own design. She wanted all of Spira to know the Guado as she had known them, to know Seymour as she had known him.
Now, in the present time, she reached over to her bedside table and palmed the heavy sphere. She rested the cool dome on her cheek. She had been crying again, was always crying. That was why she came here, to this place that offered her no real comfort. This was her sanctuary, the place where she could feel how she wanted to feel, where she didn't have to put on a show for the sake of appearances. She had never allowed herself to be herself, was still not allowing herself to be herself. All she could do was cry out in regret, scream at nothing in frustration. But soon, she would be pushed to the breaking point. Soon, she would truly have nowhere to go. That would be the moment when her self-imposed chains would break, when the real Shelinda would stand before the Sphere Recorder for all the world to see. The Shelinda that had seen things others had not, the Shelinda that would soon force others to look upon that which they had ignored. Shelinda smiled, then; a vengeful smile. She set the sphere on the table, and switched it on. She closed her eyes then, and just listened, letting his youthful voice soothe her wounded soul, maybe for the last time.
"Hello. My name is Seymour…..Seymour Guado……."
Author's Note: This was, like, the first fic I ever wrote, and looking back on it, it totally sucks. There is next to no dialogue, it's all Shelinda thinking about stuff, and it's kind of sappy. Okay, it's REALLY sappy. I'll do some other fic later that'll do this unusual pairing more justice, I promise. If you managed to make it through this fic without falling asleep, thanks for reading! Review and give me some suggestions for how I could do it better next time!