Best wishes for pyjamaTerra's future as a brand new account, and happy birthday to Singapore ( Damion and Howling's country ).
"Go talk to a wall"... I've said that one time too many in my life, haven't I?
The pillar had aged so much with all the times of struggle, restoration, more struggle and more restoration. Yet, it held strong as ever, no matter how many cracks snaked up and down it. His gloved hand came up and touched it almost reverently, and he traced a particularly long crack that stretched from somewhere at his eye-level down to a point below his knee.
If only walls could talk back; all the stories you could tell us...
There were footsteps, and he was no longer alone in his musings.
"Ever saw yourself doing this?"
"Hmm?" and he turned to face the one who just joined him now. "... Studying pillars?"
A snort, and then a clarification. "Leading a kingdom. Just like your father before you."
"Which one?" he retorted casually.
"Does it matter?"
"Good point. Still," he paused to straighten slowly, not taking his eyes off the old pillar. "Laguna became a president. Ansem was the equivalent of a king. I'm just leading with no official off-battle status. Guess that makes it a half-escape from destiny."
"Half-escape does not equal escape, Commander Leonhart," the other mocked. There was no malice in that statement; no ill intention. They both knew that. After all, they both knew each other for more years than fingers could count. It seemed so long ago, he realized, when they were both mere brats - defiant against the world yet trusting in tomorrow's coming - and had played so many games around this same pillar. So very long ago...
There was a snort, and the other came up to him. They were now but a few inches apart, one facing the other's shoulder in almost perpendicular position.
"...you're doing it again," the other commented. He blinked, and his hand came down automatically.
"It's just hair, Squall. Hair that will fall away and be replaced by new ones."
"It's gray hair, Cloud. It's what we who are not enhanced get when we're of the right age." as he said this, he turned to his companion. The man who stood before him was definitely weathered some, but remained more youthful in his appearance than his peers, and still did his spiky head of gold remain in its proud countenance.
"It's still just hair."
"You'll understand when you finally start graying."
"I'll probably be dead before then."
"True...we're not the young men we used to be."
The atmosphere was somber around them, and they stared out at the town that was below them. They could see the familiar faces of the ones they had grown so attached to, going about with their lives. All had a carefree air that they had finally earned the right to keep. The man who once refused to keep his name now raised his brows in an expression of amusement as he caught sight of something; this he pointed out to his fellow.
"Is that...?"
"It is," Cloud clarified, his tone sharing that same amusement. "Yuffie and her cohort of photographers again."
"At least she's lost interest in stalking us for homoerotic visual stimulation," Squall quipped dryly. He watched - as did Cloud - as the youngsters following the fully matured ninja went around with an eagerness, finding beauty in everything with not enough opportunity to capture it all. So far, they had done a good job about their work, and the town saw it.
Squall turned away, and looked into one of the rooms. Slowly, he made his way inside, and found the shelf that held many old frames that had been plated in tarnished brass. These frames held the surviving black and white pictures of older days, when all was still so new and innocent - days that held no fear for darkness that had yet to come.
There was Ansem when he first stepped up to take his place as ruler. There was his first assistant, still a youngster with a sparkle in his eyes and a cocky grin on his face. There was Mickey, looking the same as ever, witnessing the knighting of a youthful was Cid, grinning wider than he ever had, holding high the trophy he had won from his old days of war. There was Merlin, still the same old man with the long white beard, with his enchanted abode filled with animated furniture.
There was Sephiroth, the youngest by record to become a general, standing high and regal in his newly-issued uniform as he posed stiffly for the shot. There was Sephiroth and Aeleus, posing alongside a pair of guests, and on the photo's surface was black glossy writing that said "to Genesis and Angeal - hope to see you again soon". There was a lopsided view of a protesting Dilan as Braig grabbed him in a half-nelson, the other hand holding the camera up; scrawled on the side in the older man's messy writing was "Ha! Gotcha now, camera boy!".
"...here we are," Cloud pointed out - he had followed after Squall, and now watched quietly over his shoulder.
Indeed, there they were... There was a very young Squall in Ansem's protective hold, rubbing sleepily at his eyes as he stared in vulnerable confusion at the camera. There was Zack, beaming widely as he hugged a toddler Cloud with a suddenly shy Squall half-hidden behind him. There was Cloud and Squall, still so young, play-wrestling for the first time as a weary Shera watched over them.
There was Zack as an adolescent, engaged in a debate with an irate Ienzo over a matter that no one would recall. There was Cloud, a figure of nervousness as Tifa lectured him - both of them not noticing that they were being caught on camera. There was the infant Yuffie, held in her father's arms as the curious faces of the older children stared up in awe at the tiny new life. There was Squall, sitting cross-legged with a morose expression as the toddler Yuffie sat in his lap, giggling and tugging repeatedly at his bangs. There was Aerith in her mother's flower garden, and there was Zack by the fence, as they smiled without a care in the world.
There was Aerith and Tifa, both dressed like little princesses in honor of Ansem's birthday. Then there was a photo from the same day, with the boys looking restless in their mock suits of "kid armor", the girls as relaxed as ever in their smiles and their gowns, and little Yuffie squatting on the floor with a face of childish confusion. There was Zack and Cloud, posing with Sephiroth, Aeleus, and the two guests that were Angeal and Genesis; all in armor for the occasion, and Cloud grinning with the full knowledge that he and Sephiroth's armor were coincidentally of the same color scheme. And there was Ansem, dressed more regally than ever before, and he had his hand on Squall's shoulder as the boy stood to his mentor's right like a determined miniature knight.
Those were all, and both men looked now further to the right. The old faded gold of the brass now made way for the dull, silvery luster of frames hammered out of alloy. Frames that had been handcrafted by some of the more able metalworkers, and gifted to them for this very purpose. Pictures from every world were here. Pictures of Hollow Bastion, and the reclaimed Radiant Garden. Pictures of every person - both man and beast alike - that Sora had come to call "friend".
A few photos stood out among them - there was a gathering of six people in black trench coats, all with their hoods down. Old, familiar faces, of those that had once been known as Ansem's devoted assistants. This photo had been taken by a younger Nobody in the organization, and was a gift from Riku. Another beheld a group consisting of four boys and a girl, and amongst them was a boy with serious blue eyes and dark blond hair. Scrawled upon its surface was an arrow that pointed at that boy, and messy scribbling of, "Look! Roxas! Got that memorized?!"; this one had been a gift from Twilight Town, a bare remnant of a simulated reality that Pence managed to salvage.
And then there were those that had no frame, propped up by simple plastic stands and nothing else. Photos of times more recent...times that were tragically ironic, for they were things that could have been avoided. There was Peter Pan, now a grown man in his early twenties with a permanent frown on his bitter countenance, standing over the broken, dark world that had once been Neverland before it had been robbed of its wondrous magic. There was Seifer, growling contemptuously at the photographer as he led the broken survivors from the lost Twilight Town into Radiant Garden.
There were children - too many children - that were huddled together, all knowing that they were stranded with no way home. There was the broken walls of the castle; walls that had been painstakingly restored only to be smashed down once more by ignorant invaders who knew no better. There was Leon in full battledress, giving his final speech as a Commander before the battle that would end so many lives. There were those who were now dead, and there were those who were left behind.
Cloud looked toward Squall, at the weathered and scarred warrior looked upon the whole shelf for what it was - a treasure trove of memories. Of the past. Of times both good and bad. Times that they had lived through, fought for, and in which they had given up so much. They were all there, pictures in frames with a persistent layer of dust upon them.
At last, Squall turned away from them and returned to the bailey, Cloud but a step behind. They looked out into the far distance, at the colors of the evening sky, as blue and white started to make way for a momentary wash of orange.
"It feels like we've done nothing but fight, all our lives," Squall finally spoke again. He was tired, and he could feel it more than ever now. "Yet, the fighting will not end. It's too naive to think it will."
"Yet, we try. We all do," Cloud answered. "It's in our nature to do so."
"We won't make it, though," and Squall frowned as he found himself picking at the dull gray streaks through his sable hair. "We've given all our time into this endless fight, and we don't have much left. None of us do."
"We don't have to." and at Leon's curious glance, he tilted his head back out, through the view that they had. "Look there."
In the distance, in the town, they could see the young men and women they had raised - those who were once mere children that were either found or born into the kingdom. Some of them were engaged in friendly bantering, and others were just laughing cheerily as they moved with confident grace. Yuffie was now meeting them, and from the looks on their faces, she was after another photograph. As the two elders watched over them, the youths did not put up too much of a fight, and grudgingly acquiesced.
"We'll do all that we have to," Cloud continued, his eyes never leaving these young people he had come to love so much. "The rest is up to them."
Squall turned to look Cloud's way. At last, he smiled wearily, and looked with equal fondness upon the view before them.
"...yeah."
Behind them, housed in the room upon the shelf, was the past that they had fought for. Before them, in the town below, was the promise of a future that they had earned. A future that belonged to the next generation.
And together, they laid down their arms for the final time, and just watched.
"... Camera," came the dragoon's disgruntled warning a second too late. The whole gathering of the young turned, and groaned in unison.
"Come on, Aunt Yuff - not this again...!"
"No can do," Yuffie retorted, striding up with purpose as she set it up. "We don't have a group shot of you kids, and we need one!"
"Do we, really?" one of them mumbled, and was gently hushed by the girl beside him.
"Now, Luke..."
"Get closer together, now! Come on!" Yuffie started barking orders as she readied the camera. "...everyone ready? Smile!"
"What for?" another boy muttered, exhibiting the taciturn disinterest that his father once carried. Beside him, one with dark spikes of hair grinned as he answered.
"...a new dawn."
There was a silence, a moment of contemplation. At last, the smiles came easily, and Yuffie started counting out loud.
"Works for me."
This was first drafted as the epilogue for When Keyblades Rust. If I can keep my inspiration, I'll see what I can do about updating Hello World! somewhere in the recent future...hopefully.