DISCLAIMER:
I don't own anything pertaining to Fushigi Yugi, The Legend of Zelda, or Final Fantasy VIII.
I merely fantasize. I don't own Chichiri, Tasuki, Link, Laguna Loire, or the lyrics to Epona's song, I don't own any part of their appearance—in case I've left anything out, let me speak plainly. I own nothing in this story but the story.
As is typical, please—review me, flame me, whatever. Please!
SILVER LIGHT
Tasuki groaned. "Come on, Chichiri! Just throw your little magic kusa in the air and *whoosh* us over to Hotohori!" He brushed an unruly lock of fiery hair out of one golden eye. Sensuous lips pulled back in a grimace, revealing sharp, pearly canines. "I am fucking SICK of all this walking! "
Chichiri snorted. "Have you forgotten that the Emperor Hotohori requested that we take the long way?" he asked wryly. "How are we to make a decent, thorough report of the state of his people if we just magic ourselves to the palace, no da?" He flicked the fingers of one long hand at the surrounding countryside. "This—every step of it—is necessary, and you know that, no da! Reaching up, he placed his hand along one smooth cheekbone. With an audible rip, his cheerful face came away, revealing his scar and the single remaining sienna eye left to him. He cast his glance around warily. "Something's happening." He said, his voice deepening with his mood. As he brandished his staff and held his left hand ready for gesturing, Tasuki chuckled menacingly. "Action!" he laughed, though Chichiri knew that in reality the Seishi was utterly serious. Something sparkled in the corner of his eye, and both the monk and the bandit whirled. Tasuki's tessen cut the air, but a sudden flash of light swallowed both of the warriors—and the road was empty.
Link whistled, and Epona came galloping up. Malon laughed. "Look at the power of my six-foot specimen of Hylian masculinity!" she teased. "With his perfect blond hair and those blue, blue eyes, deep enough to drown in." Link silenced her with a quick kiss. "Now, now." He chided. "No need to get vicious." She slapped at him playfully. "You'd better get going. Saria might get worried." Link bowed at his fiancée and kissed her hand before swinging easily into the saddle. "Be well, my heart." He murmured, urging Epona into a gallop.
Link hummed with the rhythm of the horse's movement. "Epona, Epona, growing up with me…when I am with you, I can't be lonely…" He smiled inwardly at the simplicity of the song—the song that drew him first to Malon all those years ago, in the busy market square. "My lovely one…" his musings ceased mid thought with a quizzical look. Epona was breathing heavily, and her eyes showed white. "What's wrong?" Epona whinnied and bucked panicked, before turning and racing into the other direction. Link trusted Epona's actions, but all the same, he looked back—just in time to see a wave of silver light rolling toward him. "Holy Nayru—"
Epona galloped on, alone and riderless.
Laguna Loire sighed and padded, sockfooted, across the room to stare out the window. Below him, and all across the glacier, the lights of Esthar glowed brightly. He grinned. Peace. He thought happily, sipping at his wine. If only my Raine could see it, live in it, and know our beautiful son. the thought was an old one; Squall was the SeeD leader for the Balamb Garden, and thus, the president of SeeD itself. Not bad for a twenty-year-old. And what a beautiful wife!
Laguna studied his reflection in the window, seeing pieces of his son in himself. Long, loose black hair framed a gentle, slender face with merry gray eyes. He'd lost none of his litheness in the two decades since Raine's death—slim and strong as whipcord, ready for anything that might come between him and his. He'd gained a few white hairs, but lost nothing since he wore the uniform of a Galbadian soldier. Lightning flashed abovedome, filling the sky with silver light. Protected as the domes were, he was free to watch the storm as long as he liked. "Beautiful." He murmured. Lightning flashed again, and the dome's windows buzzed with thunder. Rain began to fall, blurring the lights of Esthar into shimmering stars, blue and gold and alabaster in the dark. He finished the last sip of wine and carefully set the fluted glass—Balamb crystal, a gift from his son—on his bedside table. "Good night." He said softly. Reaching his bed, he pulled back the covers and pulled one pillow down as well—a habit he'd gained after Raine died, and never been able to break himself of. One long pillow, stretched alongside his slender body as a motionless surrogate of his wife. He curled up around it, willing his body-warmth to drive away the cold.
A breeze flowed through the room. It caressed tendrils of his loose black hair, the silk of his pajamas. "What—" Lightning struck again abovedome, and at the same time, light flashed within Laguna's suite.
When the shadows again regained the room, the bed was empty.