Title: open skies blue
Author: unwinding fantasy (formerly Aqua Phoenix1)
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy XII ain't mine.
Rating: K+
Pairings: Vaan x Penelo.
-o-o-
The great expanse stretches out before him, azure on gold. Accustomed to heat capable of bleaching bones, his eyes stare unblinking at the line where sky adjoins land as if they can discern some adventure unfolding just beyond. Far off in the distance behind him, the city of Rabanastre stands cut out in rich earthy hues. Colourful creatures bustle down its broad streets, life-blood cycling through dry arteries: a hume child rolling a hoop across the central square, his friends tailing him in one huge, laughing gaggle; a long-eared bangaa bellowing his wares, pausing only to glare at the retreating backs of those who snubbed him in favour of Migelo; the moogle who tends the chocobos, his amiable smile slipping as an inattentive mother hovers close enough to let her baby grab a fistful of feathers…
Vaan knows that vibrant world. He's known it all his years. His heart pulses along with the footfalls of those people.
It's not enough.
As if to punctuate the thought, there's a sudden splish! as Penelo's head breaks the surface of their oasis, practiced strokes bringing her to shore. She walks towards him, studying her hands intently, each step eliciting a fresh squelch from soft boots. A smile tugs at Vaan's lips when she tosses her hair, sprinkling his bronzed form with water droplets. Sunlight catches them just so. Fixated, he watches her make rainbows.
"Look at me," she complains, "Just like a granny!" She shakes her hands, showing off the mountainous terrain they've become, a furious gesture meant to remedy the situation.
Vaan does as he's bade. He looks at her. He looks at her and says, "This sucks."
The syllables drop like two bars of iron from his mouth (and if that ugly expression on her face is anything to go by, straight onto Penelo's toes.) She bends down, bringing her face alarmingly close to his own, and waggles a finger just beneath his (slightly sunburnt) nose. "You drag me all the way out here for that?"
Vaan forces a grin, rubs the back of his neck. Her hair's tickling his nose and everything smells coconutty. "I've been thinking, is all…"
"You?" Penelo teases gently before plonking herself down beside him, sand cushioning her fall. He gives her a mock-exasperated look. "Do tell!"
"It's just…" he falters, finding it inexplicably difficult to convey his meaning to his best friend, the one who can find sense in the most muddled of his ideas. He turns his eyes downwards, noticing her hands. They're shrivelled like sun-dried apricots even though water, not sunlight, made them so. Inane, the thought makes him chuckle.
"What!" Penelo demands, smiling a small, I-know-I-should-be-laughing-but-I'm-missing-the-joke smile.
He steadies himself to seriousness, telling himself he has to finish what he's set in motion. It's been weighing on him for some time, only he hasn't wanted to throw a wet towel over Penelo's happy-go-lucky nature. Too late now. Even goofballs need a break from being comic relief every once in a while. Taking a deep breath, Vaan plunges ahead in his fearless way. "Why did our parents have to get sick? Why not someone else's? Why not that crazy lady that sits near the fountain all day talking her doomsday rubbish to anyone stupid enough to listen? No one would miss her." He's started now and it's all coming out in a rush despite the wide eyes staring into his own, shining with disbelief, stung by the potent venom that's been festering within him all these years. "Just because we got dumped here on our own doesn't mean we have to stay here, you know. Let's run away!"
Expression dulling, Penelo blinks once. Slowly. She shakes her head a little in an attempt at settling her thoughts. Then, that smile reforms. "Where would we go?" she probes, clearly concentrating on the portion of his speech that will lead to a happy ending.
"Anywhere!" he says, willing to oblige her, the word springing from deep inside his chest. He says it with relish, in the tone an exhausted desert-traveller would use to exult in the discovery of some secret spring. "We'll be sky pirates, go searching for buried treasure and long lost cities and secrets that no one else knows. We'll fly around in our airship. The wind up there'll be nice, you know, not all too hot or too cold like Rabanastre wind."
"A cool breeze, huh."
The boy nods emphatically.
"Sign me up!"
Though still present, Vaan's grin suddenly loses its genuine edge. "Don't have my ship yet," he laments, struck by the thought that if his parents were still here gil wouldn't be so hard to accumulate.
Penelo smiles enough for both of them, "In that case, I'll just have to stick around till you do."
The rat king brightens, lies back against soft sand. Arms folded beneath his head, he props one foot atop his bended knee and gazes skyward, dreaming. As the sun continues to singe his nose, he briefly entertains the possibility of waiting forever. Penelo's words echo in his mind and he thinks just maybe it wouldn't be unbearable.
They sit around their tiny campfire, darkness covering them with her soft folds. Long after they've made their peace together, Basch spins tales of love and war, queens and kings, Reks and Rasler, tragedies all. Vaan finds himself enraptured, snared up by a world of solid certainties, devoid of decisions, ifs and buts. No Ashe struggling through drawn-out days -- shatter the stone or steal it? -- no Fran wondering what has become of her wayward sister, no Penelo asking, "And tomorrow…?" There's only Basch and his past where everything's still bold reds and blues and greens, not whitewashed pastels like this wide world Vaan's been thrust into. No matter what atrocities they stumble upon in those murky corridors of recollection, memories are just that.
Vaan finds himself discussing his parents' deaths for the first time in forever. He listens greedily to the knight's voice, roughened like his sword-callused hands. He imagines what his brother looked like the moment the light left his eyes, pictures crimson water pooling around army-edition boots, an extra metallic appendage appearing in his chest.
Out here, the lilies refuse to bloom.
There's a strange kind of comfort in the morbid images flickering, one by one, behind his eyelids. Memories are solid, unwavering: no fresh surprises, no tripwires or pitfalls or hidden serpents -- everything exactly as you left it. Bygone days are familiar, the safety he felt when his mother wrapped him in a warm embrace. Not at all like the future's mirage of possibilities. Vaan walks towards a frightening sun, a bright bright future that may illuminate his life or scorch it, but the shadow his memories cast behind follows in his wake, an old reliable friend. Melancholic, he wishes someone more substantial was by his side.
He envies Balthier because even a rotten father is better than none at all.
Vaan sighs, drained and defeated. The rhythm he'd been marching to eludes him nowadays -- the music is muted, lost in time. His big adventure, the one he'd been dreaming of and he's never felt more alone in his life. He watches words fall from Basch's mouth, coconuts from a palm. He recognises the barely-there fear in those gallant eyes, thinks Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg and his chivalry and knight's honour wish they had no vile secret in need of guarding. Vaan tries to draw strength from the same well the man branded Kingslayer does. Courage quailing, he watches and admires and understands why Basch always talks about the past.
Dawn is coming. Vaan's scared too.
When Cid dies, Vaan cries more than Balthier. Neither of them understands.
Penelo comes to him at night-time. Unspeaking, she sits beside him and he's grateful that she doesn't attempt to stopper his grief, just touches her shoulder to his.
They wait out the dawn together.
Blue skies surround them, a beautiful blank canvas rolled out, waiting for Vaan to leave his mark on it. The Undying are dead, everything's over and beginning and complete all at once. The colours are vivid -- so much so that when the hero closes his eyes he fancies he can still make out their imprints, a striking after-glow. One that'll be there tomorrow and tomorrow and...
Penelo links her arm through his, leaning into his strong form, their sweat mingling at the join. Vaan breathes deep of her sweet scent, content, feeling that next time they go adventuring it'll be on their terms. A destination of their choosing. A thrilling concept, one which sends an electric jolt down his spine. Pink lips tugging into a smile, Penelo asks one question. "Got enough gil yet?"
Vaan takes comfort in the memory. "Uh-uh," he replies mournfully with a shake of his head. A cool zephyr, a promise of spring, stirs his ivory hair. "…But," and he turns to gaze at her intently, "I've got all the treasure I need right here."
The sky beckons. Hand in hand, they'll chase the sun.
-o-o-
"The road remains wide open
while your dreams are alive...
Let fear propel you forward.
Do not look back.
Do not let fear stifle you."
-- Iron-Tail Fratley (Final Fantasy IX)