Author's Note:
This is actually my first fanfic; started this days before Sacrifice, but it was much more of a challenge to write for me. I wonder if that says something about me as a person; I can more easily write about hurt and pain than lust and denial...guess I'm not cut out for fluff. :O
A Tour Of Gran Pulse
A series of scenes taking place during the group's first day in 'Hell'.
I. Mangoes
Fang had taken to watching their fearless leader ever since their arrival a few short hours ago in Vallis Media. For safety's sake, she always told herself. If she breaks down, ain't like she's gonna run to Snow for comfort. She didn't honestly believe Lightning would ever break down; the soldier was too strong, too intent on whatever goal was immediately ahead for them to ever consider a moment of weakness. Maybe in some other life time, I could've made it worth her while, she thought wistfully.
On the surface, the soldier was forever stoic; her facial expression did not fluctuate no matter what topic the group floated across during their travels. It was as if the Maker herself had delicately sculpted Lightning from the finest alabaster; beautiful and unyielding, perfect and unattainable, breathtaking and forbidden. Fang had personally witnessed nothing more than an amused twitch at the corners of her mouth when Vanille had heavily hinted Fang's sexual preference to her; she herself had not been amused in the slightest and immediately shushed Vanille, apologizing for the younger Pulsian's actions all the while.
There were times when her expression would change; in the throes of battle, she would shift from irritation to derision to anger in a moment's notice. Upon victory, she would fade back to stoicism as if nothing had happened, save for the quickening of her breath.
After days of observation, Fang was now witness to something completely unprecedented. Immediately upon grabbing a mango from the pile the Pulsians had managed to forage, Light had gently begun digging her fingers into the mango, massaging the soft fruit with a focused expression on her face. Fang made sure to exude at least the pretense of being busy by fiddling idly with her lance, but her focus was on the Cocoon native all the while. She knew she shouldn't watch with such fascination but she could hardly help herself; Lightning was simply acting so...weird.
Her gentle ministrations continued for minutes as the fruit slowly evolved from fairly solid to mush inside of its skin. She forrowed her eyebrow lightly as she pinched the skin at the apex of the fruit with sufficient force to pierce it; just a small prick at the top so as to prevent all of the juice from overflowing. That task having been completed, the soldier brought the fruit up to her mouth and gently lick mango juice off of the skin of the fruit with the tip of her tongue.
Fang's breath nearly hitched in her throat.
The Pulsian internally scrambled to get a grip of her imagination before it went flying off and physical symptoms of her current emotions became obvious to her peers. She steeled her face into a blank pseudo-glare that would have made the object of her desires proud and quietly continued to observe as the fruit was brought up to those lips once more. The Pulsian had never found the act of eating to be particularly sensual up until that very moment; if only because the generally unflappable soldier seemed so intent upon that mango.
Fang groaned softly, watching those pouty pink lips wrap around the skin of the mango and purse ever so slightly as Light coaxed the juices from the squished fruit. Oh, Maker, what I wouldn't kill to be that mango. It was then that she noticed the inquisitive gaze of the younger Oerban and realized her internal struggle must have become...external. She colored ever so slightly, grateful her darker skin mostly hid it.
"Rolled my ankle quite nasty when I was trying to nab a mango from some munchkins," Fang explained quickly. "It just hurts a bit."
Vanille smirked outright, enjoying her friend's discomfort increase under her knowing gaze. "Must have been a pretty good mango," she nearly giggled.
"Sod off," Fang admonished, resisting the urge to huff as she stood from her seat and stalked to the unceremonious mango pile and snatched a fruit for herself. Light, having been completely absorbed in the consumption of her mango, had apparently finished with the fruit and was now watching the exchange with an expression that was a mix of confusion and amusement.
"Fang really likes mangoes," Vanille explained helpfully, ignoring a dark glare.
II. Accent
Light winced at a sharp pain in her shoulder, resisting the urge to make louder protests as it blossomed to a dull ache before fading away. Only the gentle, warm, persistent touch of Fang's fingers kept her rooted to her spot, sitting cross legged on the cool earth of Vallis Media.
"Easy, love," cautioned an accented voice behind the soldier. "You've been runnin' yourself ragged; last thing I touched was this knotted was Vanille's last attempt at knitting a sweater." Fang chuckled, a deep throaty noise, recalling the memory and Vanille's despair.
Light suppressed the shudder that threatened to betray her steely resolve; that voice always instilled the most vicious want deep in her body (and her soul, but she'd never admit it). "Gotta do what you-"
"Gotta do," chimed in Fang, finishing the ageless adage that even she was familiar with as a Gran Pulse native born 500 years before the pink haired beauty. She continued working out the kinks, resisting the urge to let her hands drift elsewhere. The warrior knew better than to push her limits, especially when the rest of the group was just around the next bush. "I know, Light - trust me, I know. Just can't have you fallin' apart now, can we? You expect me to lead this sorry lot?"
Light couldn't help the image that popped into her mind; Fang and Vanille skipping happily ahead of a downtrodden group. She snorted at it, eliciting a surprised laugh from Fang.
"Good to know even you have a sense of humor," the Pulse native teased lightly, careful to keep her jabs at their least insulting.
Try as she might, Light couldn't help but relax under Fang's expert care. That accent didn't hurt either; it was like her mind was drifting in the softest silk. She wanted nothing more than to just be with Fang, to allow anything and everything to happen at the older woman's whims. Unfortunately, she could not afford to give into her own whims, much less anyone else's.
"Mmm. That feels much better, Fang. Thank you," she spoke, with true gratitude, and broke their contact - to their mutual disappointment - to stand and stretch her arms. Good as new.
"Don't mention it," Fang assured, averting her eyes from the alluring vision of Lightning's legs - Oh, Maker, they go on forever, her treacherous mind reminded her - and stood, brushing dirt off of her bum.
Light's face slipped back into its usual neutrality and she wordlessly started walking back to camp, mentally reminding herself to ask Sazh for aid instead. She didn't trust herself to stay objective around that woman, her hormones simply went insane; around Sazh, she'd be much safer, if slightly less blissful.
Ah well, she often made sacrifices; what was another.
III. Eyes
The sergeant could stop a heart with those eyes.
Fang swore, every time Light even so much as glanced at her, it was like a King Behemoth knocked the air right out of her chest. They were the most brilliant shade of cerulean she'd ever seen in her life. Odd, how the only soldier in our little group looks like a Goddess right out of a story book. Their eyes had only lingered for a moment before Light looked down at the spear in her gloved hands, but the warrior still had a tight feeling in her chest as if she were in the throes of her first heart attack.
The silence was getting a bit too long for Fang's liking. "Just tell me when you're done then. I'll go make sure Vanille doesn't make an absolute mess out of the fish," she spoke up awkwardly, wincing at the unnaturally cheerful tone in her voice as she left the soldier to the task of upgrading their arsenal. She'd made sure she was the last to relinquish their weapons, just to linger a moment afterwards and catch sight of the eyes that never failed to set her heart aflutter. Why in Maker's name would she care about what I'm doing? Buck the fuck up and stop acting like a complete idiot before you get your face shot off.
"Someone looks grumpy," the younger of the two Oerbans spoke in a soothing voice as Fang plopped down heavily next to her a ways away from the group.
"I'm an absolute idiot, Vanille. I haven't acted like this since I was a bloody teenager, it's ridiculous," Fang groaned, rubbing her face with one of her hands. "Half the time, I'm trying to get her attention; the other half, I'm thinking about how to get it again."
"Oh, it's okay," Vanille said soothingly, patting her shoulder with one of her hands before leaning her head on it. They remained like that for what seemed like hours, but probably was only minutes. "I just don't get why you refuse to do anything about it. It's not like you're shy or something."
Fang let out a heavy sigh. "Let's say I did. Then what?" she demanded, turning to look at the girl who'd been like her sister for most of her life. "Either she doesn't feel the same way and it's incredibly awkward, or she does and then it's absolutely depressing 'cause we're all more likely than not doomed to become Cie'th at this rate." The truth left a bitter taste in her mouth.
"Don't say that!" Vanille cried out, and immediately became sheepish when she was suddenly the center of everyone's attention. "You joker, you, you know how I hate mushrooms," she added sheepishly as a cover for her earlier outburst, gently hitting Fang's arm before more quietly adding, "You know what you should do, Fang. No matter how you justify it...you're being a coward. Who knows how long we have? You should be latching onto every tiny little chance at happiness like it's the last Chocobo out of Bodhum."
Fang's brooding silence was Vanille's only answer.
IV. Curves
Light always fancied herself a person with a great deal of self-control. It was something that she had to develop in the wake of the death of her parents; she couldn't go gallivanting off into the night and make an absolute idiot of herself like other teenagers when her younger sister was counting on her to make Mom's special Friday night pancakes for dinner (with whipped cream, strawberries, and home made butterscotch syrup). The one time Light had skipped out on Friday night, she'd gotten home late and been greeted by a sobbing Serah; the older Farron had then promised to never disappoint her sister by giving in to her own selfish wants and needs again.
It was because of this that she had a difficult time understanding why she couldn't seem to pry her eyes off of the sleek, toned body of a certain green eyed Pulsian. The soldier had never been so grateful for the cover of darkness as she laid on a comfortable gorgonopsid hide mat. The fire, a ways from the sleeping (or pretending to sleep, in her case) group, had crackled down to a low, steady ember; barely necessary in the heat of Gran Pulse. She watched through half-lidded eyes as Fang fluidly moved from one position to another, completely aware of how every muscle was absolutely steady, in what Light could only guess was the Gran Pulse version of Tai Chi. It was breathtakingly beautiful, especially given how the warrior's tanned skin was softly illuminated by the orange glow of the nearby embers.
Light couldn't help but notice that Fang had removed her sari in the unwavering heat of the night-truly, the fire had only been for illumination and for cooking- and it had left the expanse of her toned stomach bare for Light's eyes to roam over. And those arms...one, with a twisted L'Cie brand that seemed to glow faintly in the light, and the other with a tribal tattoo not unlike what she thought a gorgonopsid's skull would resemble. Like Fang's stomach, finely toned. The soldier couldn't help but shiver at how her heart tingled happily at the image of those arms encircled around her waist, and what she imagined Fang's wild (but nonetheless gorgeous) hair would feel like as it brushed the crook of her neck. Her cheeks colored darkly as she realized how absolutely ridiculous she was being; Sergeant Lightning Farron, fantasizing about a woman who dressed absolutely ridiculously and had the most infuriating ability to reduce her to a tightly wound ball of snappy irritation.
Not to mention how her fingers made my skin tingle when she touched my brand. Lightning scowled at the memory; more specifically, how that memory had made the butterflies in her heart fly down and settle low in her tummy.
"Havin' trouble sleepin', Light?" A familiar voice with a distinct foreign lilt jarred Lightning out of her reverie. A couple yards from her, Fang was watching the scowling woman and wondered to herself what had made their fearless and beloved leader so angry when she wasn't teasing the soldier and Snow was asleep.
Lightning's eyes widened a bit at being caught dreaming like an idiot school girl by the very woman that had caused it in the first place; seconds later, her expression was once more unreadable. "Can't stop thinking," she admitted; a half-truth but the truth simply wouldn't do.
Fang's usually sharp gaze softened a bit at the simple honesty in Light's statement. "Try and get some sleep, love," she advised, keeping her tones hushed so as to not wake the others. "Got a nice long trek to Oerba tomorrow, best to start bright and early to avoid the midnight nasties."
Lightning mutely nodded and turned away, pulling the hide she was using as a blanket tighter around her as if it could make what she felt was an uncomfortably intimate conversation disappear. As she closed her eyes, she tried not to think of beautiful green eyes, softening with what she could almost label as...affection.