I personally always liked to see Basch as a sort of warm, gentle father figure. So I made this little tale, and almost cried writing it. I meant it to express the love for a child, regardless if it is your own or not. All love doesn't necessarily have to be between lovers, you know.
I was taking care of my two-year-old niece, and almost wept. Children really are a joy, and I couldn't help but be marvelled by her. So this if for my little niece, Abaigh (Abbey). I love you, my little darling.
Like father.
Fascination truly is a wondrous thing.
It started with her hair. In braids. Always braids. Then the face, round and soft with heavy lidded eyes and Gods the softest smile one could ever see. The form was light and small, gentle in places.
So childlike.
Even the movements. Like a dance, swaying to and fro, bright eyes closed, lost in thoughts and dreams and hope. Gods, hope.
He noticed the feathers first. The soft white sheen in her hair and the "wings" that adorned her back. But what he really noticed was the glow. No, the halo.
It's her!
The way the light bathed her; surely it must have been a sign, some sort of celestial being, an angel!
And the age, it fit so perfectly. He always believed in reincarnation.
-
Just a little over twenty years ago, there was a child. Basch's child.
The mother died giving birth to his dear, sweet little girl. A full head of thick, wavy blonde hair, though at first it was a brilliant white, then the colour softened to a perfect blonde. She was always small, and smiling, always smiling.
Always had a smile for Basch.
Alurea (Al-or-ah) meant always.
She started talking when she was a little over a year old. Silly words, strung together with incoherent babbling made his face light up with pride.
She started walking around the same age too. The small, waddling strides that always ended on her bottom. She knew how to start, just not how to stop. She smiled even when she fell.
The way her little hands curled in his wiry hair or pulled at his face.
Or clung to his shirt while she slept.
The way the sunlight bathed her in the morning, he would almost weep when he saw the little form caressed by the light, rising from the thin blankets. Thinking how wonderful she is, how lucky he was. She was alwasy smiling. Smiling.
Same eyes, an opal-like blue grey that light up with childish laughter or narrow in concentration when she struggled to form simple sentences.
He always knew what she was trying to say in then end.
And giving, always giving.
The days in Landis were bright and cheerful, or at least it seemed that way. He was only young, but always seemed to know how to look after her. Take care of her. Like a father should.
In the summer she would pick daisies and give them to passer-bys on the street. But she always saved an extra daisy for him.
Even when the chill descended, always laughing, always smiling, always picking daisies. She always saved an extra one for him.
He planted daisies on her grave, right next to her dear mother's. So young. Too young. Only four. Four years of smiling.
He was always a religious man. Children who die young, descend to heaven and become angels, guarding their loved ones from above.
In times of trouble, there was always a wisp of a feather on the ground, or caught in the wind. It reminded him that she was always near, especially when there were daisies present.
Then he met this… angel and had to restrain his joyful tears. So similar in everything, exactly how he pictured Alurea in her years that she had never seen.
This girl… Penello. Same eyes. Same wavy blonde hair. Same dance like movements.
Same smile.
He had to resist the urge to hold and never let go. Or to weep in eternal gratitude to the Gods for sending him this angel.
It was then that he knew, just then, by the sunlight, reincarnation existed.
And giving. Penello was always giving.
-
Their party had split into two, in the Ogir-Yensa Sandsea. He, Penello and Balthier headed one way, Ashe, Vossler, Vaan and Fran in another.
And after even warning her about the danger, a little part of him felt that she knew what she was doing. Her dagger swung, and she struck. The beast fell and she took a second to register what she had done. It was a difficult task, but even Basch could not help but burn with pride.
He watched the sunny smile split over her face.
She ran to him, smile and all, giggling in triumph and pounced. Small, soft arms wrapped gently around his neck. The collision barely made him stagger, barely.
The smell. The smell of youth and grace and Gods of daisies.
And the warmth of a loved one when they hold you.
The happiness he never forgot rushed back, the memories of wind and spinning when he held his little girl like this. He found himself wrapping strong arms around the small waist and spinning her in a circle, slight laugh escaping.
And she was laughing too, always laughing. And smiling.
Even Balthier seemed amused.
-
The sun went down, a while after that. Alurea was always fascinated with stars.
Like little daisies, she would say.
The older girl sat perched on the sandy cliff face, braids shaking in the breeze; head bobbing slightly in time to a private beat. She hummed a gentle tune, of a nursery song he remembered so vividly. Alurea always loved that song.
He walked over. Even the moonlight bathed her in that angelic glow.
"How fares you?" He asks kindly. Gruff and gravely, but she does not jump or shy away. If anything, she warms to it. And smiles.
"Good..." She says, in that little voice. "I do love the stars."
The little form curls and stands up right. A small hand is placed gently on his arm. She points up at the sky.
Little fingers map out a constellation. He listens, waiting until…
"And that one. See? Just there? It's-"
"It's a daisy." He interrupts, with a slight smile. Not a sad one.
Delight surrounded her like the light from the moon. "Yeah!" She said happily and wrapped her little arms around his chest. Almost fluidly he embraced back, fighting the tears of pure, unbridled joy.
She breathed in and felt safe, curling her little fingers in his shirt.
She spoke of her past, watching the night from the Rabanastrian rooftops. Or her parents dying, and her brothers dying.
She looked to him, not for comfort, but for the feeling a simple embrace could elicit. The feel of safety, of home. Family.
He knew, somewhere, perhaps in her subconscious mind, that she knew she was his daughter in another life.
But he kept quiet and vowed to forever love her in his heart, and never say a word. To protect her always, and hug her like he hugged his own little girl.
She even hugged him in his cold, lifeless armour, and he could feel the warmth seep through. He would spin her around again, like he did his own little girl, and they would laugh.
They always laughed.
And smiled, they always smiled.
He was strong, and protected her from harm, while she was giving, and always made sure to heal the hurt. She always gave extra help to him.
He was someone to hold, to be completely comfortable around, to smile with and tell troubles to. When she fell, he picked her up, urging her gently to start again. Like a father should. He was someone to care, to care for, and someone who had possibly the warmest, strongest hug in all of Ivalice.
She always felt at home with him, the warm embrace, the smell of daisies.
He always loved her hugs. The extra potion she saved, just for him. The smiles.
They smiled. They always smiled.
A/N: R and R please. I really like how this turned out!