Fwee. First fanfic I've ever written. R/R pleeeaaaase.
Disclaimer: Me? Own FFTA? Hah! That's a laugh.
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The strip of moonlight on the metal floor was greenish and bitter; in fact, the pollution of the atmosphere was so horrendous that any moonlight at all was a miracle. But it gave no hope to the prisoner who stared at it was blank, desolate eyes. They'd stripped her of everything she had: her weapons, her memory, and not least her name. She didn't remember what she'd done to be imprisoned like this. She didn't remember anything.
For the last few hours, vague noises had been audible from outside, crashes and bellows and shrieks, gradually drawing closer. She could feel the floor trembling beneath her malnourished body, the walls creaking ominously every so often at a particularly large blast. Through the tiny slot in her door came blurred flashes of gold and red and blue light. They danced on the floor as though mocking her with the bright vivacity of color she'd been so long been deprived of.
It took a great effort, but she managed to heave her feather-light frame off the cold floor and across the tiny cell to the door. She was careful not to brush it; she'd learned the hard way that it had been programmed to emit a high voltage when touched. Through the narrow inch-high slit her dulled green eyes took in the scene outside.
There were only about five of them, but they battled with skill and grim precision. If only she could remember! She knew she'd seen outfits like theirs before, quite often in fact, but the memory slipped just beyond the reach of her drugged mind. Two of the guards, in their dull gray uniforms that blended with the dull gray walls, lay unconscious on the floor. The other four all sported minor wounds but were holding their own against the unknown intruders.
She found her gaze drawn to one who seemed to be the leader, a tall, lithe youth with white-blond hair that was drawn back in a short but neat ponytail. His sword flashed blue sparks as it clashed with that of the guard, fingers deftly manipulating the keys on the control pad to change the magic consistency. Behind him stood a young woman holding a bow, her eye aligned with the tracker. Every so often she would release the empty bowstring, and an arrow would appear moments later above the head of a guard and pierce him with a streak of white flame in its wake.
Hours passed, but the group of fighters stayed where they were. The guards were a strong match for the intruders, but their numbers were slowly decreasing. She had no way of measuring the time that had gone by when the last guard sank to the ground and the clan put away their weapons. The leader was looking around, and his piercing gaze landed on hers. For a long moment their eyes were locked on each other, then he took a few quick steps forward and reached for her door.
She took a step back as it slid back into the wall, tripping and tumbling backwards. Her legs were cramped from being in one position for so long. The young man filled the doorway, blocking out the outside light that made her eyes water. Silently he extended his hand to her. For a moment she hesitated; then her hand met his, and the large, rough fingers closed firmly but gently around her own. As she rose again to her feet, she found herself unable to look away from those shockingly blue eyes. They seemed so familiar, as did the hand holding hers.but again the memories were just out of reach. Her cracked lips moved, unable to call forth the voice that had been unused for so long, and then a hoarse and nearly unintelligible word emerged. "Thanks."
Disclaimer: Me? Own FFTA? Hah! That's a laugh.
-
The strip of moonlight on the metal floor was greenish and bitter; in fact, the pollution of the atmosphere was so horrendous that any moonlight at all was a miracle. But it gave no hope to the prisoner who stared at it was blank, desolate eyes. They'd stripped her of everything she had: her weapons, her memory, and not least her name. She didn't remember what she'd done to be imprisoned like this. She didn't remember anything.
For the last few hours, vague noises had been audible from outside, crashes and bellows and shrieks, gradually drawing closer. She could feel the floor trembling beneath her malnourished body, the walls creaking ominously every so often at a particularly large blast. Through the tiny slot in her door came blurred flashes of gold and red and blue light. They danced on the floor as though mocking her with the bright vivacity of color she'd been so long been deprived of.
It took a great effort, but she managed to heave her feather-light frame off the cold floor and across the tiny cell to the door. She was careful not to brush it; she'd learned the hard way that it had been programmed to emit a high voltage when touched. Through the narrow inch-high slit her dulled green eyes took in the scene outside.
There were only about five of them, but they battled with skill and grim precision. If only she could remember! She knew she'd seen outfits like theirs before, quite often in fact, but the memory slipped just beyond the reach of her drugged mind. Two of the guards, in their dull gray uniforms that blended with the dull gray walls, lay unconscious on the floor. The other four all sported minor wounds but were holding their own against the unknown intruders.
She found her gaze drawn to one who seemed to be the leader, a tall, lithe youth with white-blond hair that was drawn back in a short but neat ponytail. His sword flashed blue sparks as it clashed with that of the guard, fingers deftly manipulating the keys on the control pad to change the magic consistency. Behind him stood a young woman holding a bow, her eye aligned with the tracker. Every so often she would release the empty bowstring, and an arrow would appear moments later above the head of a guard and pierce him with a streak of white flame in its wake.
Hours passed, but the group of fighters stayed where they were. The guards were a strong match for the intruders, but their numbers were slowly decreasing. She had no way of measuring the time that had gone by when the last guard sank to the ground and the clan put away their weapons. The leader was looking around, and his piercing gaze landed on hers. For a long moment their eyes were locked on each other, then he took a few quick steps forward and reached for her door.
She took a step back as it slid back into the wall, tripping and tumbling backwards. Her legs were cramped from being in one position for so long. The young man filled the doorway, blocking out the outside light that made her eyes water. Silently he extended his hand to her. For a moment she hesitated; then her hand met his, and the large, rough fingers closed firmly but gently around her own. As she rose again to her feet, she found herself unable to look away from those shockingly blue eyes. They seemed so familiar, as did the hand holding hers.but again the memories were just out of reach. Her cracked lips moved, unable to call forth the voice that had been unused for so long, and then a hoarse and nearly unintelligible word emerged. "Thanks."