Author's Notes: Yes, it's that time again where I start a new story! WOOO It has been quite the long time since I've written something well thought out and decent (to a certain point of course), so begin to enjoy a tirade of long thought scenes and odd uses of saracasm!
Let me give you the brief summary (or mission statement, which ever way you want to see it really).
SephirothBeatrix and I recently began writing a crossover called THE LIIIIIIIINE in the XII section of final fantasy, and thought up a very endearing and inevetably perfect pairing. We went awwww for several hours about it, drew lots of pictures and crap, but I couldn't help but feel compelled to write something a little more serious, with depth, and storyline to this sordid love affair.
So yes, this is a crossover of X-2 and XII with a crossover pairing, but trust me, it has a plot to it, and I'm trying to cement over my plot-bunny holes and lure the dammed creatures out with the promise of juicy carrots, so bear with me.
No crossover within the first chapter, mainly just buckets of foreshadowing, and introductions and so on and so fourth.
Warnings: Nothing within the first chapter, but eventual Lemon and I do love my descriptive fight scenes.
Birthday Wake Up-Call
Twenty was a… difficult age.
Especially when the still-young-and-virtuous Rikku brought it up on every available occasion that she was only eighteen and didn't have wrinkles and frown lines. Yuna had grown accustom to the throbbing pain in her wrist every time she decided to nut the Al Bhed in the lower back after a particularly mean (and sadly humorous) comment on the High Summoner's age.
Not that she had wrinkles or frown lines, but…
Birthdays seemed to be less celebrated as a person grows older, and it was no exception for the High Summoner, who was instantly called to Bevelle at ten in the morning from her holiday beach home in Besaid. She once thought that her fame would mean her birthday would call for fabulous parties at Kilika and lavish extravagant gifts being thrown upon her while surrounded by her friends and pulse-pounding music.
But not so far. Macalania-nut coffee, an overcast sky and an interrupted lie-in. Happy 20th.
Not that she was particularly unhappy with having to go the temple of Saint Bevelle. In truth, she rather enjoyed helping out when needed, be it Youth League or New Yevon. Both parties had finally come to terms with the fact that she was on neither side, or on both sides, it didn't really matter which. Like a friendly mercenary, or a repair service.
Or a maid… sigh. It was still her birthday.
Perhaps she was just too nice like that, she mused while sipping her coffee and trudging down the Highbridge. Passing monks nodded and bowed to her, to which she replied in kind, nearly tripping over herself mid-bow when her weary, uncoordinated feet caught around themselves. Blushing furiously as a monk turned away in effort to stop laughing, she pushed open the doors to the temple, the sombre silence blanketed the interior when the doors slid shut behind her with a bang she was all-too used to.
"Ah, Yuna… you didn't need to show up so quickly, really…" Despite Baralai having quite possibly the softest and most calming voice in all of Spira, Yuna's left eye still managed to twitch at the statement. And he noticed, obviously so ridiculously in tune with his surroundings like a wild-eyed Coeurl, and just as unruffled.
"Not that I find your arrival unwelcome," he added hastily. "I'm rather glad you're here."
She smiled, almost without meaning to. After the whole incident with Vegnagun last year, Baralai had become even more of a recluse that usual. Guilt, Yuna thought, but Gippal and Nooj had far different ideas.
They both agreed on fear, and after explaining as such to Yuna, she couldn't help but let her heart break a little for the Praetor. It took a lot of convincing, but after many unfortunate run-ins and forced meetings, Yuna was able to coax the Praetor back out into the open. Spira forgave him, his friends never once held it against him, and because of Yuna and her (albeit insistent) emotional help, he came inextricably out from the cocoon of terror he had incased himself within.
The months she had spent helping the man return to the normal world had drawn them close to each other, until she was pretty much one of the few people he could actually have a normal, human conversation with, smile openly with (and she had to admit, his smile was cuter than a baby Urn) and trust. Yuna enjoyed the fact that he had so much confidence in her.
Despite popular belief, Baralai was rather fragile, prone to feeling emotion far stronger than most others, and if anyone knew that feeling, it was Yuna. The man was difficult, stubborn and problematical to draw out, but she felt like it was worth the work, really. When you finally get underneath that shell, you could rarely find one as loyal and sweet as Baralai, as caring, and gentle, and highly intelligent.
"This better be good, Baralai," she gestured with her paper cup, "I came all the way from Besaid for you, you know."
Sarcasm, of course, with her shy little smile. They both knew Yuna would never hesitate to lend a helping hand, especially to Baralai, who was stepped on frequently by the rest of Spira. It wasn't pity per se, it was more like protection. If she wanted to sugar-coat it.
He bowed. "Of course. I wouldn't call you if it wasn't."
Perhaps she should have reminded him how much she hated the tone of her Commsphere when it was ringing, but it mattered not when they walked down the echoing hall of the temple to the Antechamber, offering her coffee cup to the man, who declined.
Once out of earshot from the Temple monks, she spoke again. "So, how have you been?"
"Fine," he gestured with his hand for emphasis, "a little tired lately. Gippal insists on me helping with the newest Machina at Djose."
"And why don't you?" Yuna took another sip, getting cream on her chin which she wiped off with a finger.
"I do." He replied. "That's what has me so tired. A lot of Al Bhed are setting up homes there, have you seen it lately?"
"No, but I've heard the stories. It sounds pretty lively at night."
"Yeah, might give Kilika a run for it's gil."
The white of his hair almost seemed to glow in the dim hallway, making those long eyelashes shocking against his caramel irises. Angelic, almost, and it certainly suited him. After Vegnagun, Baralai grew weary of the temples and their mountainous shelves of secrets. Spira rejoiced when the New Yevon party claimed to open the temple doors to historians, writers, investigators and the public in an effort to uncover and reveal every secret hidden from the masses over the centuries. This innovative status brought New Yevon into a genre of Monasteries and Scriptoriums which appointed the pages of history to be re-written, in fully fledged truth without bias or exaggeration.
Neither Nooj nor Baralai could have been happier with the arrangement, but some secrets uncovered in the temples had gotten the monks into trouble.
On countless occasions in the past year, Yuna, Rikku and Paine have been summoned to Bevelle to fight off hordes of fiends attempting to tear the monks limb from limb after, say, trying to open a suspiciously symbolically marked door, or opening a tightly bound, magically locked casket. The Via Purifico had never been more overcome with powerful fiends, possibly from the murderers, rapists, traitors and psychopaths who fell victim to it in the past. But really, some monks were just idiots who couldn't see the most obvious signs of foreshadowing, and attempting to explore and "purify" the Via Purifico of fiends without any protection was at best senseless.
Her breath came before her eyes in a shimmering mist as they descended, Yuna shivered involuntarily as they stepped onto the revolving platform, pulling them along the brightly lit pathway to various choices of corridors. Baralai tapped his foot to the left, and in an instant the lift turned and moved to his command.
"I thought this stopped working after the fiends started coming out of the chamber last year." She remarked, the floor glittering back at her in a haze of neon and chrome.
"It didn't, but I managed to bully Gippal into fixing it."
A smile then, from her as she continued drinking. "Why?"
"I was too lazy to walk to all the rooms in here." He looked down, playing with his fingers, a gesture he only reserved for those closest to him, "Perhaps it was only recently I noticed how huge the Bevelle underground is."
"You?" She poked him in the ribs, to which he recoiled with a sharp "ow". "Lazy? I would have never dreamed."
"I enjoy my creature comforts. Surely you can understand that, with your home in Besaid."
"That's different." She wiggled her eyebrows at him. "That's real comfort. You're just lazy, which is something I would expect from Gippal."
"Perhaps I should stop spending so much time around him, lest I catch his deadly personality."
Another smile and a chuckle, and the bitterness of being woken so early was utterly forgotten. The reason however, was not, and an unease settled inside her chest like a bad cold. The revolving platform shuddered and she stumbled, catching a hold of Baralai's jacket to steady herself. His hand caught onto her forearm and hauled her back into place.
"So, why did you wake me up again?"
He paused as they stepped off the platform to the marble staircase supported frighteningly by metal poles that stretched down seemingly into nowhere. They lead into two hallways, one upper which lead to the Chamber of the Fayth, the other across, to the room which once held a Gift of Anima and old, old scriptures. She was lead down the former, and her unease only grew.
"You remember the symbols that have been popping up around Chamber of the Fayth, right?" He asked, and continued when she nodded, "At first, the monks and I thought it was just the repercussions of the Fayth being manipulated again, but…"
Her wrapped braid shook with her strides, producing a sharp sound when it slapped against the marble wall, they both flinched.
"But…?"
Stopping, a dark hand went to cup his chin in a typically thoughtful way that was so like him, and his brow furrowed. "The symbols, they started to bubble last night. The monks have been examining them ever since. We don't really know what is causing it…"
Yuna snorted. "And I might?"
The door to the Chamber of Fayth slid upwards, and in the past, the old Yuna might have flinched, or felt her heart sink into her stomach at the thought of returning to such a sacred place. But not now, she has been here too many times, seen it too frequently to… to care much anymore. To bring back memories. It was common place.
While years ago there was once a beautifully coloured statue set into the floor, now the gaping wound of Vegnagun took it's place, a morbid reminder of the Machina, still bleeding Pyreflies as if to remind them that not all wounds could be healed with time. However, as Baralai had warned her earlier, symbols now decorated the walls, eerily glowing that strange, bluish-white. Upon first glance, they looked merely the same as every other symbol of Yevon did, curling designs, beautiful in their own way, remains of a language shaped over time by slang and the introduction of new cultures. Now however, they seemed to burn.
Plastic tends to bubble and melt when you heat it. Minus the acrid smell, and the effect was just the same here. But it wasn't the stone that seemed to burn, it was just the symbols.
The monks inside all stood and bowed formally upon their arrival, Baralai waved them off to allow them to continue their work.
"What is it?" Yuna asked, a hand travelling to her mouth, but not touching it.
"We're not too sure yet. I don't know if it has something to do with the Fayth or not. These chambers are still connected to the Farplane after all, so it could be any number of things."
Bubbling, aching almost, the glow like a stuttering halogen light, and the bluish-white seemed to seep out and roll down the old stone in a single line, angel blood, liquid made of magic. One monk allowed the solution to dribble into a bowl, and he covered it with a cloth and handed it to another, who hurried outside with it. All done in silence.
Yuna hung her head for a moment, and said in a far off voice; "The Fayth are gone, Baralai…"
He turned his head to look at her, collar covering his chin and mouth, so the words were ghostly when they came from him. "Yes, but perhaps consider that something is trying to take their place."
"I'm not asking you to figure it out, simply that if we need - if I need your help, I can count on you."
"Of course, Baralai. And besides, this isn't something normal… right?" Like an illness on the temples almost. Yuna shuddered at the thought, though she wouldn't be surprised if it turned out the concrete really was flesh and the interior was the organs, the people it's blood, the Fayth it's heart.
How very poetic of her. Yuna made a face.
"Thanks for that," He sighed as they continued to walk through the streets of Bevelle, her mouth watering at the thought of another Macalania-nut coffee, disappointed when they passed the shop.
"Just… keep me updated, alright?" She said, eyeing the prices of a nearby stall with half-interest, "Something… isn't right about it."
"You don't need to tell me that," He replied quietly, "I'm sure we're both just as worried about this. We don't need another fiend incident."
"I thought that stuff coming out of the symbols looked rather… explosive." She stated offhandedly.
Being so dark, when Baralai pales it's all too easy to notice. He stopped suddenly, and Yuna quickly grabbed a hold of his arm.
"N-not that I'm saying it is," she gushed reassuringly, which only made matters worse, "just… that's - be careful okay?"
His caramel coloured eyes looked down the cobbled ground, avoiding her hasty stare. Perhaps they were too alike, both stubborn and selfless, worrying incredibly over the minor details, terrible perfectionists. But Baralai's strength was in magic, intelligence and speed on the battlefield, not emotional response, not like Yuna in that context.
She could already see the panic, the fear welling up behind his impressive composure, which had weakened greatly since Vegnagun, the composure she had been so desperately trying to help him regain. She shook him, as if to snap him from his daze.
He shook his head, hands gently unclasping her fingers from his embroidered shoulders. "I'll try to figure something out as quickly as I can."
"What about the rest of the temples? Are they getting this too?"
"I don't know," he pinched the bridge of his nose for a second and squinted his eyes closed, "it only started happening this morning, when I called you."
Yuna sighed. This was going to be quite the long day. "Why don't you talk to Nooj? Ask him to send out some of the Youth League to the temples to check and get back to you."
Baralai however, looked a little hesitant. "Are you sure that's wise? After all, those symbols are the symbols of Yevon."
"All the more reason to," She said, nodding. "You never know, your monks might need protection if the time comes, and I think Nooj should know about this. And ask Gippal to look at the liquid coming out of the walls."
A second, to contemplate even, and he smiled. "Perhaps… perhaps I should."
"See? You don't have to do this alone…"
Calm descended after several minutes, and he relaxed somewhat as they made their way back to the port for the Celsius. Soon, the violent red streak loomed into view, ruffling the blue material stationed around Yuna's legs, whipping about her braid she spent so long growing her hair for.
An embrace, and a whispered hope for health in her ear before she left. Yuna inwardly prayed this day was going to turn out better, and as she watched Baralai get smaller and smaller on the port as they flew away, the smallest sense of foreboding overtook for a second, causing her brow to furrow.
That feeling was squashed however, when Rikku snapped a party hat onto her head and destroyed the bridge with bright pink glitter.
"Yuna is not getting old!" Brother shrieked, waving around with a Shinra holding onto his wildly flailing arm for dear life. "She looks just as beaut-"
The man was cut off however, when the jumpsuit-adorning child managed to wrap his clothed hands around the overlarge mouth. Paine shook her head and sighed, Rikku was far too busy decorating the bridge with bright pink tinsel and glitter, and Buddy was… just being Buddy, stationed at the cockpit, ignorant to the spectacle.
It was times like this that really made Yuna grin. Straightening her party hat, she took one end of the almost offensively puce tinsel with her cousin, and proceeded to tie Paine to the railings, struggling violently against her glittering restraints. Attempts to swat them away were futile, she then began to swear vicious obscenities, made various colourful death threats (two in Al Bhed) and then finally gave up, slumping against the metal and scowling.
"Come on Paine, it's my birthday," Yuna chuckled, strapping a bow across the grey mop of hair. "You have to do what I say!"
"Yeah!" Rikku punched the air. "Didn't your parents ever teach you to listen to your elders?"
The stressed word made Yuna in turn try to swat the blonde away, who dodged easily, giggling, narrowly avoiding Brother still trying to shake off the child swinging out of his face.
More death threats, and a particularly long winded explanation involving legs being jammed up the rear and having their sphincters torn out like a hair-scrunchy. She marvelled at how eloquent the woman could be when swearing like a Blitzball player.
"Oh, Yuna! Is that a grey hair?" Rikku plucked at her braid, grinning like a maniac, and though the woman proceeded on a high speed chase around the bridge after the blonde, she couldn't help but feel a little exultant. How long has she been doing this? Maybe two, three years? Sure, she complained, but really…
She needn't ask for more.
"What did Baralai want?" Paine asked her huffing and puffing cohorts, still strapped to the railings. After giving up her attempts to wriggle free ten minutes ago, she blew a lock of her hair out of the way, and remained to look as ineffectual as one possibly could while wearing a ridiculously large pink bow.
Yuna swung an arm around her cousin's shoulders. "Usual stuff, you know really. Weird things showing up in the temples, same old same old."
"Atleast he's trying to fix it now, instead of just hiding it." Rikku said, taking in a deep gasp of air, trying to steady her breathing.
Brother said something too, but it was muffled by Shinra's abnormaly strong grip.
It was always him.
It always seemed to happen to him.
The few months Baralai spent as a shut in, he researched the workings of curses, trying to find something, anything to try to explain how his life tumbled down into the endless abyss of turmoil he had to face.
It's not luck or a curse, Baralai, We are all responsible for our own lives. It's not how bad the situation is, it's how you deal with it! Luck, fate, it's not that, it's how you handle it that matters! If you find yourself in a bad circumstance, it's because you've done something to put yourself there in the first place.
Perhaps she was right. And he supposed, he really only landed himself in those kind of situations because of something he's done before to get him there in the first place. But then, how was one meant to prepare for it? How does one measure how bad something is, before it even happens?
How you deal with the situation… is to act accordingly. Act according to your station.
Yes, he was the Praetor. He made a promise to Spira to unearth all the secrets of the temples, and that he would very much do.
The dead weight of the morning seemed to be lifted somewhat off his shoulders after he called Nooj and explained what was happening in the Chamber of the Fayth. Well, not so much lifted as supported a little by Nooj's careful hands. The Youth Leagure were on it, travelling to each nearby temple to investigate, and he sighed inwardly with relief.
Another unit would be dispatched to Saint Bevelle, as Nooj said, to ease his worry. Just incase.
You never know.
Relief, just like he felt back in the Crimson Squad when Nooj was around. Sweet relief, that they could make it, and if they didn't it was an honourable death at least. He sometimes envied the Youth League for that spark Nooj seemed to have left in them. And, and he couldn't help but smile at the thought, that was how he met Elma. That spark.
She's so cute.
"Sir!" One monk managed to catch him mid-way through the Cloister on his way to the new Scriptorium. "Apologies sir, but I'm afraid your assistance is needed in the Chamber."
"What is it now?"
The monk looked down, as if to search the floor for an explaination. "I… I don't quite know, sir. The symbols…"
Baralai exhaled noisily. "Very well. Follow me."
If the teachings of Yevon taught anything, the real teachings, it was that things tended to happen for a reason. Sometimes, he felt as though he was being punished for something he may have done, some cause he had forgotten, or perhaps erased.
Yuna said it's not the time, it's how you handle it. So he tried his best to be optimistic before dealing with things. If life was a stage, an arena that way, he would fight instead of blaming the world for making him fight. He just needed to think more, and feel less, less incredulity and hate, more logic and compassion, more understanding.
"It's just here, sir."
Perhaps that's what he has been doing wrong all these years…
"… When did this start happening?" He asked, eyes intent.
"A few minutes ago, sir," One monk kneeling on the floor stood, dropping his scribbled notes and diagrams. "We suspected the growth has been happening slowly, but it seemed to be speeding up within the past few minutes."
"I see…"
Was this normal? The symbols started off small, a minor annoyance at best, but it seemed that each time he returned to check on them, they grew.
A warning…
What did it all mean? Especially now, that the marks bubbled and swam within themselves, and beld outwards, running into each other, like ink, or Machina oil in the rain, a forewarning made of simple symbolism, and yet he still couldn't figure it out. No one could.
He shivered, despite himself, too used to the damp and the cold of the Bevellian underground.
The symbols slowly but surely began to meet each other, loosing their shape, rolling liquid down into the gaping hole left by the fayth, sparkling light down into the never-ending puncture in the world.
Please, he thought silently, please let the Youth Leage get here soon.
There was no shame in leaning on your friends. He never really realised the gravity of a secret before he told someone, and the sheer crushing weight felt supported, making the burden easier to carry.
But your friends can't do all the work, and you must… act accordingly…
Hopefully, he was just worrying over nothing.
Yevon, why was it always him?
Author's notes: Review if you wish. Thanks for taking the time to read! Intro of the crossover in the next chapter!