Long, long ago...
Summary: her skin was warm, her eyes bled.
For the Spooky Halloween Festival: Bone Dragon.
It's nearly Halloween, so I'm going to kick things off early. I would reccomend listening to Mad Father - Old Doll while you read this. The english or french version. I was listening to it the whole time I was writing this, and the melody is just perfect.
The gold crown was planted in a mass of green curls, smelling of mint. Strands of hair had been gathered up into a ponytail, contained by an elaborate piece of satin. The silk was a burst of color, holding the shine her eyes had forgotten moments ago. It was all velvet purple, powdered white, apple red, neon blue, goldfinch yellow, lime green; a rainbow of colors.
Kefka looked down at Terra, lips still parted as if to protest, a single tear staining her cheek. It wouldn't be joined by others of its kind now, not with the crown in place. She was practically still; frozen in the middle of summer, the only movement being made was when she unconsciously drew air into her lungs.
In. Then out. Again, and again. In. Out.
He wiped the tear from her cheek, his finger leaving a ghostly white mark on her skin.
His knee slams against stone as he stumbles forward, letting out a curse as he glares down at the tombstone for getting in his way. It doesn't have her name carved into the surface, so he's not interested in it. "Terra!" he called into the fog as he stepped around the rough stone. "Where are you?"
She had to be here somewhere, she couldn't just disappear like this. With that crown on she couldn't go against his wishes, and he didn't want her too far from his side. He didn't want her running away from what he had become, because of his actions. That's why he had given her the crown. It was a gift, perhaps an unwanted one; no, she definitely hadn't liked it. Though... with it on he didn't have to deal with that now.
A giggle slipped from his lips like smoke, curling into the air. A gift being unwanted. It went against the very definition of the thing, didn't it? Voluntary. Accepted. Without payment. The laughter that had previously been merely bubbling along the flesh of his throat split the air around him. But there had been payment. Oh, how silly he was to forget that part. Oops.
He chuckled as he walked forward, gaze flicking down back to the tombstones. It would be even more silly to see her name on one of these, just absolutely featherbrained. But each one drew his eyes to the name carved onto the stone as if he was in a trance.
three, two, one. you're it!
Kefka spun around at the sound of her voice. He could see a figure outlined in the fog behind him, for but a moment. One leg curled, in the air, arms pumping at the air; caught in mid-run. Then she disappeared into the thick mist once more.
"Terra! This isn't the time for games! Get back here!" He started running after her, in the same direction he had just seen her going in.
He didn't get it. She should be listening to him. That's what the slave crown did, made her listen to him, obey his every order. Including killing those fifty soldiers for him, solidifying his hold on her. So why wasn't she obeying him?
catch me! catch me!
Kefka scowled. He was going to do more than catch her. He was going to lecture her about leaving his side, tell her for the millionth time how she wasn't safe by herself. That he would always be there for her, no matter what. She was half esper half human, and though he knew she could defend herself he insisted on protecting her. Since the very first moment he met her.
This game of hide-and-seek was not helping him with his goals.
i'm over here!
He turned sharply to his right, seeing her little hand sticking up from behind a gravestone. The nails were a bright green, the polish reflecting what little light pierced through the thick fog. He had painted them himself, the same color as her hair.
"Get back here! Do you hear me, Terra? Quit hiding from me and do as your told!" he nearly screamed to the heavens as he marched over. But - of course - she was no longer hiding behind the tombstone when he reached it.
kefka! kefka!
For a moment he considered not following the sound of her voice. This was a waste of time chasing her, but he really should find her - and stop looking at each gravestone he passed; yes, that was the most important thing. He should just create a fire so hot it would burn them down to ash. That would be a suitable end for this maze of death.
Just burn it all: countless villages, entire kingdoms; he was going to do it all with her help. Make the villagers scream and dance in the flames that roared around them, consuming them, until they fell to the ground, burned beyond recognition. Just another charred black body, and he could drink in the aroma of burned flesh.
Kefka closed his eyes, imagining the scene of destruction that awaited him when he had burned the whole world down to a crisp.
they're hurting me!
His eyes snapped open as he spun around, lips curled up as far as they could go, snarling as he advanced in the direction he had heard her terrified scream. "Who is it? Where are they? Tell me, Terra!" He would drown them in the water he summoned, freeze the bottom of their feet to the icy ground, watch as their skin peeled off when they tried to run, staining the ground red.
Or he could summon a whirlwind, his very own hurricane to gather them all up; batter them around with each other and the gravestones until every bone in their body was broken. Until they had been crushed flat between the stone, their bodies mushed into something resembling apple sauce, with chunks of flesh and bone mixed in.
Kefka hurried forward, but then stopped when his eyes landed on the name of the headstone in front of him. The one he could have sworn he just heard her voice come from, muffled, deep underground...
No. Not his Terra.
With a wave of his hand he had used the wind to scoop out the dirt, drag the coffin up six feet and deposit on the ground next to the tombstone. He knelt down, breaking the clasps along the side. Kefka only waited a second before throwing the lid to the coffin open.
Mint green hair framed a pale face, her eyes were open, but they didn't reflect any stray strands of moonlight. Her lips were parted into a small o, bow shaped around the single vowel. A velvet cape clung onto her shoulders, the ends clasped together in the nape of her neck. Her shoulders were too smooth, and there was an obvious cut made into her skin, detaching the rest of her arm from the joint. The red dress she wore covered the rest of her joints, but he could tell from the crease in the fabric that they had become detached as well.
His fingers dug into the side of the coffin as he stared down at Terra. "Who... who did this to you? Terra?" he spoke as if she could answer him in this broken state.
So he wasn't expecting it. The icy breath that crawled over his skin, curled over his own shoulder and spread to the rest of his body. As her voice filled his ears, in such a tone he had never heard her use before. you.