Disclaimer: Final Fantasy X and all of its highly addictive characters and
plot twists are Squaresoft's toys. I'm just playing in the toybox.
Author's note: This is the first of a series called Reflections, where I attempt to get into the heads of the memorable characters of FFX. They're in no particular order, I'm just writing them as they come, but it should be interesting. All I know is that the series will begin and end with the Fayth, just like the game sort of did. Also, this is my first fanfic, so please R&R. Let me know how I can make my stories better! Please be gentle, though-I'm afraid of fire, ya? (
Reflections, chapter 1 The Fayth: Endless Dream
We are the Fayth. We are all that remains of the great machina city of Zanarkand, of the thousands of souls who once walked its street. This is our story.
* * *
There was a time, many centuries ago, when we were alive. We raised families and enjoyed good times with our friends. We walked and talked, laughed and cried, loved and fought. We sent our children to school, watched them grow and move into their own lives. We cared for our parents in their old age, and in return, our children cared for us in our old age. And, of course, we turned out in droves to support our neighbors, our friends and our children, in rousing games of Blitzball. Our lives were full, not perfect, but fulfilling. We were content.
And then Sin came.
In an instant, it was all over. Zanarkand's past, present, and future destroyed, reduced to a so much rubble at the bottom of a vast sea. Our families were ripped apart; the lives we worked so diligently to build were erased in the blink of an eye. Sin took away our lives, our hopes, our plans for the future, and left us frozen in the sea that used to be Zanarkand. We remain in this limbo, unable to forget, unable to let go, because we never truly died.
That is why we dream. We dream of the sea, our icy underwater tomb. We dream of the past, hoping that one day, our past will help to save the future. We dream of our lost loved ones, mourning them, wishing for their peace. But most of all, we dream of Sin's defeat.
Those who share our dream come to us in prayer-what an odd thought, that anyone should pray to us!-they pray to us, seeking our guidance, our power, and our supposed wisdom to aid them in their quest. They undertake long and arduous journeys just to seek us out and acquire our aid. To those who pass through our trials and find their way, to us, we grant the power of the aeons, the physical forms we have created to help them battle Sin: our dreams made flesh. They always respond with such reverence, so grateful that we have deemed them worthy of receiving the aeons; after all, there are so few who overcome the trials and learn to summon us. Yet, to those who have proven themselves, we gladly give our power, hoping that one day, one of those souls might free their world and give us rest, let us stop dreaming at last.
Finally, to sleep.
@}------
Author's note: This is the first of a series called Reflections, where I attempt to get into the heads of the memorable characters of FFX. They're in no particular order, I'm just writing them as they come, but it should be interesting. All I know is that the series will begin and end with the Fayth, just like the game sort of did. Also, this is my first fanfic, so please R&R. Let me know how I can make my stories better! Please be gentle, though-I'm afraid of fire, ya? (
Reflections, chapter 1 The Fayth: Endless Dream
We are the Fayth. We are all that remains of the great machina city of Zanarkand, of the thousands of souls who once walked its street. This is our story.
* * *
There was a time, many centuries ago, when we were alive. We raised families and enjoyed good times with our friends. We walked and talked, laughed and cried, loved and fought. We sent our children to school, watched them grow and move into their own lives. We cared for our parents in their old age, and in return, our children cared for us in our old age. And, of course, we turned out in droves to support our neighbors, our friends and our children, in rousing games of Blitzball. Our lives were full, not perfect, but fulfilling. We were content.
And then Sin came.
In an instant, it was all over. Zanarkand's past, present, and future destroyed, reduced to a so much rubble at the bottom of a vast sea. Our families were ripped apart; the lives we worked so diligently to build were erased in the blink of an eye. Sin took away our lives, our hopes, our plans for the future, and left us frozen in the sea that used to be Zanarkand. We remain in this limbo, unable to forget, unable to let go, because we never truly died.
That is why we dream. We dream of the sea, our icy underwater tomb. We dream of the past, hoping that one day, our past will help to save the future. We dream of our lost loved ones, mourning them, wishing for their peace. But most of all, we dream of Sin's defeat.
Those who share our dream come to us in prayer-what an odd thought, that anyone should pray to us!-they pray to us, seeking our guidance, our power, and our supposed wisdom to aid them in their quest. They undertake long and arduous journeys just to seek us out and acquire our aid. To those who pass through our trials and find their way, to us, we grant the power of the aeons, the physical forms we have created to help them battle Sin: our dreams made flesh. They always respond with such reverence, so grateful that we have deemed them worthy of receiving the aeons; after all, there are so few who overcome the trials and learn to summon us. Yet, to those who have proven themselves, we gladly give our power, hoping that one day, one of those souls might free their world and give us rest, let us stop dreaming at last.
Finally, to sleep.
@}------