1Nothing But A Need

Chapter One

Amanda: Behold, my first attempt at an AU Angst!Seymour fic, including, you guessed it, Ophelia. What, she's not with Auron this go around? Nope. She never came to "our" world, either, but instead was raised by a poor family in Luca. Consequently, this is also my first song fic, a song called "Bleed" by an industrial band called Tapping The Vein. Awesome stuff, check 'em out. Their cover of Tori Amos' "Cornflake Girl" is to die for.

Seymour: Do you always rattle on so?

Amanda: Oh yeah, forgot to mention that, instead of my usual introductory partner, Auron, Seymour will be joining me. Everyone give him a round of applause, and don't feed the wild animals.

Seymour: irritated sigh

Amanda: I own nothing. Including Seymour and Final Fantasy X. Squenix was mean when I asked if I could borrow them for a while, so I let the subject drop.

My eyes are burning through my lids,

I can't remember when I've closed them.

The face in the mirror simply could not be his own. Eyes lined in red, deep brackets at the corners of his mouth...In truth, he looked horrible. He felt as though he'd aged twenty years in two weeks, and he was starting to look it. When, truly, was the last time he'd slept? Two days? Three? More? He honestly couldn't say.

He turned from the mirror and ran a hand down his face. They would arrive shortly in Luca for the opening of the blitzball tournament, and he had to look at least halfway respectable, considering he was being introduced for the first time as Maester Seymour Guado. Not that being a Maester would change how people felt about him, human and Guado alike. He was a half-breed, an abomination that shouldn't have been allowed to live. Hadn't his father told him that enough times? But, Seymour had put an end to it. Two weeks ago was the last time his father would try to use force on him. Now he was in the Farplane, and Seymour finally had a chance to live his life the way he truly wanted to.

The boat rocked slightly side to side, and, as Seymour stretched out on the bed of his cabin, the gentle motion lulled his strained eyes to shut. No...He couldn't sleep. The blitzball tournament. But, one by one, his tense muscles relaxed, and in minutes he was sleeping, lost in the dreams only he would ever know.

Ophelia brushed the loose strands of hair from her face and sighed angrily, picking up the spilled supplies from her pack. Damn the tourists. Stupid blitzball. She'd be so glad when it was over, when all of these...Mongrels would go home. They were rude, inconsiderate, and, for the most part, drunk. Who cared if she'd spent her whole week's pay on these supplies? They were here for a good time. One little poor girl on the street didn't mean anything.

Once everything was gathered, and stuffed rather haphazardly into her pack again, she started back through the crowded streets to get home. She was shoved from all directions, no one bothering to even look down to see if she was okay. Soon, the crowd became so thick, she got pushed along with it, and soon found herself being shuffled down toward the docks, where she did not want to be. Finally, seeing there was no swimming against the tide, she went with it instead, and found herself on dock 3 with the rest of the yahoos, stuck behind a man with overblown muscles, and hair the color of...Well, she couldn't guess at something that shade of orange. It didn't help that his hair had a strange cowlick in the front. If she was going to be here to see whatever was going on, some hormone crazy blitzer wasn't going to block her view.

"Hey, hey," he said, as she squeezed past him. She sent him a withering glare and turned back around, realizing she was right up front.

"Whoa, front row seats." Music started from the band at the boat's gang plank, and she was shuffled even further into the open by the crowd as moved, everyone struggling for a better look at the man with the strange blue hair coming down the plank. He stopped, turned back to the boat, and did the prayer gesture, as did the rest of the crowd with the exception of one or two here and there, as a man anyone in Spira could recognize, regardless of race or creed, also came down the plank. Maester Mika, ruler of Spira for fifty years.

"People of Spira, I thank you for this generous welcome." Old as his was, Mika's voice traveled well. He turned to the young man with the blue hair, who was still kneeling. "Rise, Maester Seymour. And all of you as well."

Ah, Ophelia though. So this is Maester Seymour.

"I present to you...The son of Maester Jyscal Guado, who departed for the Farplane a fortnight past. As some of you already know, he has been officially ordained as a Maester of Yevon."

Seymour bowed his head a moment, then spoke. His voice was smooth, cultured, and, quite frankly, piqued Ophelia's interest totally against her will. "I am Seymour Guado. I am honored to receive the title of Maester. In life, my father Jyscal worked to foster friendship between man and Guado. I vow to carry on his legacy, and fufill my duties as Maester to the best of my abilities."

The crowd around Ophelia cheered, but she stood, her gaze focused on the demi-Guado Maester. He turned to leave, and Ophelia realized he was going to walk right past her. She'd never been this close to someone this famous before. Well, not unless you counted her father...But that was when he'd been an outcast...Before he'd died and she'd been torn from her younger sister and thrown to this life.

Seymour started past her, then stopped, and, much to her surprise, stopped right before her. Their gazes clashed for what felt like an eternity, though Ophelia was sure it was only a few seconds, and she vaguely thought that she'd never seen anyone with lavender eyes before. A small smile curved him mouth, and he bowed his head slightly, before moving on.

The crowd began to thin and disperse, and Ophelia stood still, trying to still her heart. What the hell was that? Finally feeling steady, she turned to leave, and walked straight into the same blitzer who'd blocked her path before.

"Hey, muscle-head, watch where you're going!"

"Hey, you look out, ya?"

Ophelia glared up at him. "You walked into me, thank you."

"Wakka? Is there a problem?" Ophelia looked in the direction of the voice, prepared to jab this guy about being the captain of the crappiest blitzball team to ever play in Spira, when once again her heart stopped cold. No. No, it wasn't possible.

"'Course not, Yuna. Just an accident, ya?"

The name Yuna bounced around in Ophelia's head for a moment before a hand crept up to her mouth. "No." She scanned the other girl's face again, noting the two eye colors, the same brown hair...A face that came straight out of Ophelia's childhood. "No."

"Are you alright?" Yuna stepped forward, concern lining her features. Shaking her head, Ophelia stumbled back.

"Just...just go." She didn't want Yuna to know that this is what had become of her, that her older sister was a servant to a wealthy family here in Luca, while Yuna...Yuna's clothes were made of sturdy, but very high-quality material. When it seemed Yuna was going to come closer, Ophelia steadied her pack strap against her shoulder and made a break for it, running through the crowd, jostling the spectators much as they had done to her earlier. She ran blindly, not really sure where she was going in the crush of people trying to make it to the blitz stadium, and kept on going that way, until the crowd thinned, then disappeared all together.

Finally stopping, she leaned against a wall to catch her breath, closing her eyes. That was close. No, Yuna could not know who she was. She couldn't. She felt tears sting her eyes, but forced them back. There was no need to cry. After all, it had already been ten years. What was another ten?

She sniffled and pushed away from the wall, finally taking in her surroundings. They were extremely familiar, and, she realized, she really wasn't that far from home. She sighed and started down an alleyway, surprised at its gloom in the middle of a bright sunny day. But it was cooler here in the shadows.

A noise behind her made her start, and she spun around, spying a monkey jumping on a trash an. With a sigh of relief, she turned to start back down the alley, and gasped. After all, it wasn't everyday you saw a Maester of Yevon taking a stroll through the back alleys of the rougher part of Luca.