This is basically Auron's train of thought
after you pass Yunalesca and get the air
ship. Spoilers, read after you get airship
or at your own risk.

It may seemed disorganized at first, but
it's meant to be that way. It's his thinkin'
and stuffs.

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Everybody else have found themselves huddled about that sphere before Cid, mapping out our next destination. I myself have found refuge on my own, in the empty corridor before the control room. I'm glad all the others have stayed in the main chamber, and even Kimarhi who had decided not to waits in the hallway to my left. Only occasionally am I bothered by the flaxen tressed blitzer.. And sometimes, he would speak with me.. Only to be greeted by my monotonous reply.

"I must admit.. I was worried at first.. But you've done well."

The only words I could manage, and even then my lengthy pauses were due to my thoughts.. Interrupting me. Luckily, I had the ability to retain my composition. Even if he were to prod me further, he would arise no other comments.. I would speak no more than that; in fear, yes fear, that I would spill out my thoughts.. And he knew me too well already.

I reclined my back against the corridor.. One boot flat against the surface, so the sole was parallel to the wall itself. I was bound to think for a lengthy amount of time, so I might as well have made myself comfortable. All my thoughts.. They were driven back to Zanarkand.. Both the dream, and the reality.

I sighed as my eyes fluttered shut.. Atleast my good one did. Before long, I felt the rim off my jug against my lips, rough against my skin. My tongue recoiled at the distaste of the liquid when chilled, but I didn't bother to pay much attention to it.. And that is when I dove into my subconscious.

I remember that look on Tidus's face when he came to Zanarkand. Our weapons set aside, and he went off on his own while we all sat about the dying fire.. He was climbing up the pile of rubble and ruins that remained a testament to the former glory of the machina great; Zanarkand. The way he stared out into the saffron hued abyss and pyreflies.. I knew that look. It was the look of an impending end. Once again, my resolve wavered.. I thought I had overcome my emotions, second time around.

It was then I feigned a smile, moistening my lips once again with the alcoholic beverage.

The fiends and the trek onwards towards the stadium was the easiest part of the journey through the ruined city.. For the ordeal was a mental trial for myself, since my physical self had long ago died by the hands of the 'Savior of Spira' which dwelt in that very stadium.

Once again.. My thoughts had been interrupted by the restless boy, the metallic sound of the doors parting as he entered my section of the airship. I knew it was him, for I peeked my good eye open slightly. Staring him down through the tainted obsidian hues my lenses cast upon him.. It seemed as if I locked him there, against his will, as my eye drove into his own cerulean gaze. It was then he turned and left in the direction of the Ronso, without a word.

His gaze said enough. It was soft, and sad.. Sympathy.. After all these years, did the boy pity me? Did he feel sorry for my anguish, for my death..? Or was he saddened by the fact I was meant to leave him from the beginning..? Or was it the impact my years retaining the patriarchal role of his family in his father's absence?

I remember his mother from back then.. I remember lack of passion she had for life. It was as if she were willing to throw it away.. And that angered me at times. I had mine taken, and she, she was going to give it up.. Though.. I knew this was only a side effect of Jecht's death. He told me stories of a vibrant woman, alive, lovely. She was reduced to nothing because I couldn't save Jecht.. I couldn't help him..

And now.. She's dead.. And her son, the son I raised for ten years of my death, pitied me.

That was the last thing I wanted. After all these years of being honored as a legendary guardian, despite the fact it was all false.. A statement produced by the maesters of Yevon to promote the faith within the people.. I had grown accustomed for people looking to me as a pillar, expecting me to be strong. Never, in so many years, have I seen somebody look upon me with such profound sorrow. Of course, people in the dream of Zanarkand, or people who looked upon my face felt a superficial sadness for me.. But nothing so deep. The last who had given me such a look was Kimarhi, who had fulfilled Braska's wishes to take Yuna off to Besaid.

I remember.. Crawling up to the Ronso's feet, bloody, scarred.. Forcing myself to weather the unforgiving slope of Mount Gagazet. He didn't make it hard for me, we were both of little words.. Straight to the point.. I pleeded for him to take Yuna to Besaid, for Braska.

The cobalt furred creature agreed, and quickly escaped my crimson tainted gaze.. He just left me there. I had requested for Yuna's sake, not my own.. So I am not bitter towards the creature.. Yet, now that I wonder.. Did he think I was dying.. Or already dead? An unsent's last plee before I was doomed to become a fiend? Heh.. I didn't even know myself.

In the future, Yuna's sphere would assure me Kimarhi was the one to personally deliver the message. "It is the wish of a man facing death." As Kimarhi had bluntly put to the girl.. I expected she believed it was her father, and not I who had urged Kimarhi to fulfull my plee. It was his wish, anyways. I was simply the messanger.

Yes, I was simply the messanger.. And after I had delivered.. I felt.. At ease; as my face fell into the snow and icy slush, and slowly.. The cold numbed my pain away. I felt as if I fulfilled my last promise, my final obligation to Braska.. It was then I felt I could slumber in peace.. But I couldn't. Something bound me to the world.

Braska. His daughter, Yuna.. An orphan. Victim to Sin in it's wrath and defeat, both her parents had died. How he fought against all odds, died for people who outcasted him.. And most of all.. How I missed him.

Jecht. That family he always talked about, the son.. His only dream, back in Zanarkand. And most of all, the fact I needed to free him. Free him from the hellish existance that Yunalesca damned him to as a fayth. His fate, to defeat Sin, to kill Braska, and to inflict Yu Yevon's murderous rage upon Spira until another would take his place.

I had tried to avenge them.. I.. I really had.. But after my confrontation with Yunalesca, I needed to find another way.. Another way to break the spiral, to avenge the deaths.. No, murders of my dearest friends.

I felt myself sink down, into a seated position.. My head reclining back against the cold metal of the wall. My jug had been long since pulled from my lips, but when I lifted it again, it was half empty. Half empty.

My thoughts had digressed.. And so.. I traced back to Zanarkand.. Was I really digressing, knocked off topic? Or did I fear confronting my last living memories?
I had completely skipped my trek within the stadium.. And now.. I must confront it.


It was getting late.. And so.. I had a whole night ahead of me to think..
To ponder the meaningless existance of a dead man.
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I'm gonna keep this to a small amount of Chapters. It was meant to be a one shot,
but it covers alot of thoughts. :B Stay tuned!