I don't usually do oneshots, so I don't know what my deal is, but here's a oneshot. I also don't know what compelled me to write this, because it's somewhat dark. I guess it's because I'm tired. Anyway, it runs sort of on the border between XIII-2 and Lightning Returns, but I was listening to a song from LR while I wrote it ("A Sacred Oratorio"). One of the most awesome songs on the soundtrack, if you ask me. XD

Anyway, I don't wanna take any more of your time, but I advise you to go find "A Sacred Oratorio" and listen to it. Have a nice day and R&R :3

Oratorio

Death had taken over the field before her. She stood inside death, she saw it, she breathed it, she smelled it, she could practically taste it. Clad in her black full-body armor, she felt like she embodied death. A black cloak, a black shadow, a black cloud of smoke, just like Death. But no. Standing there in the field, the last one alive, she was General Lightning Farron. Alive. Breathing.

And yet.

She surveyed the field. The bodies looked like part of the landscape, littered, here and there, in no particular pattern, black armor and that bright red that marked their enemies alike. Black. Red. Black. She supposed it was a good thing that they looked like they belonged to the landscape, because someday not too far off from now the earth would reclaim them. She'd bury them. Her comrades back in her city would bury them. Their families would bury them. Or they'd be left to rot, left lying there in the dust, eyes open, lingering fear in their expressions, as they were scavenged by the wildlife that still possessed some form of life force.

She forced herself to move. One foot, then the other, carefully skimming her way around the lifeless figures. She identified him by his hair: shoulder length, with a headband and an assortment of beads, her doing. Long, long ago. A soft lavender color, one she was sure she'd never seen on any other man. And anyway, he was the only one who could pull it off.

Could have.

Past tense.

She knelt down next to his listless body and stroked his lavender hair. Her hand drifted to his face, carefully caressing the side of his jaw. His eyes were shut already, and his face wore a peaceful expression, not a terrified one like the other soldiers. His mouth was set into a line, the corners just barely turned down. She remembered their days together, when she had spent hours just trying to get him to snap out of it, to crack a smile. He'd later pointed out to her that she herself rarely smiled, and she had conceded, raising her white flag as he leaned down to her. Her lips had curved into the slightest of smiles as his mouth brushed hers.

That mouth of his—the same as it had always been. She focused on it and for a moment almost believed that he would open his eyes, that his mouth would move in the familiar syllables of her name, that he would remind her he would never be away long. She grazed her thumb across his lips, slowly, memorizing the feel of them. Feeling like Death, murmuring a prayer, a ritual only she knew, guarding him against the darkness for when he descended into the realm beyond.

But death had already claimed him. Her hands slid along the straight lines of his jaw and neck to his chest, where his fatal wound gleamed like a medal. One shot. One bullet. Piercing his heart. After all he and Lightning had been through, a single shot had killed Caius. One shot. One second. One pull of the trigger. While she stood elsewhere on the battlefield, maybe fighting for her own life, maybe standing idle and terrified, maybe watching her enemies cut someone else down, maybe destroying the lives of her enemies herself: someone had shot Caius Ballad in the chest. While she stood elsewhere on the battlefield, he fell to the ground dying. Where had she been?

Not there.

She heard a sound behind her, and she turned to see that one of the red-clad bodies had vanished. Traces of dark smoke floated in the space where the figure had lain just seconds ago. She sucked in a breath. She had forgotten. On any normal occasion, the wildlife, the natural inhabitants of this area, would come to take them away if they were never buried, but this was different. If no one came for these bodies, the Chaos would come instead. The Chaos, the darkness, closer to a form of death than Lightning would ever be—it would reclaim these bodies. These soldiers—these people.

She leaned down far enough that her nose brushed Caius's hair, and she breathed him in. It may as well have been her last breath, she decided, listening to the sounds of the Chaos take away the other bodies. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her; maybe, just maybe if she entwined them tightly enough the Chaos would not come for him. Or maybe it would confuse them and take them both away at once. Maybe. She could hope.

Or she could bury them. She lifted her head just enough to see the sea of bodies surrounding her, infiltrated every so often by the Chaos. The Chaos: choosing them at random. Red. Black. Red. It didn't care. Lightning squinted as she watched the black vapors swirl in eddies over bodies far away, and make their way gradually closer. The fibers reached out, extending like several long, spindly fingers, weaving through the sea of armor and dirt and plants. The Chaos threaded over Caius, pulling him away from her, and she felt the strange warmth of it collect under her fingertips. Frightened, she drew back.

She stood up and faced the field again. Now it looked like a sea of Chaos, and she felt truly like Death, one with the darkness, presiding over this ritual. The sea lapped at her ankles, warm even through the plates of her armor, and the black waves obscured the ground and everything on it. Lightning stood frozen as she watched the tide pass through. After several minutes, it began to recede, tiny fibers dissipating, until the Chaos no longer resembled a sea, but rather the web of a spider. Underneath the spaces in the fibers she saw that Caius's body, black armor and lavender tresses, had vanished. She wanted to vanish into the Chaos too. And yet, standing there in the field, she was General Lightning Farron, alive, breathing.

But cold.