Substantial
By. Bento Box
Completed on: October 14th, 2001
Disclaimers: All FF9 characters are respectfully copyrighted to their rightful
owners, Squaresoft. No copyright infringement intended. This is a nonprofit
piece of work, and redistribution of it without given permission is not allowed.
Comments: Pretty much just a one-shot piece. Has no real future towards a sequel
(look at how long ago I wrote it....), and not substantial enough to my satisfaction
but here it is anyway because I'm a random person who likes to spit out random
pieces.
--
He wasn't sure how long he had lain there, not wanting to move and unable to move. He wasn't sure how badly he was injured, or if he was already tottering on the edge of Death.
He wasn't sure of anything.
If his eyes had been open he would have closed them, but they were already closed, and the struggle it took to get the lashes to untangle themselves from one another could have taken a second, a minute, or an hour.
And when he finally managed to open his eyes, they weren't assaulted by any bright, glaring lights, and or kaleidoscope of floating colors either.
Instead, a gentle, almost surreal shadow was cast over him, and the air shimmered in a barely tangible glow. A distant, gentle song hummed in the back of his mind, and he felt momentarily disoriented.
Where was he?
His body still refused to move, so he lay there, inhaling the sweet, light air deeply into his lungs. Each breath brought strength with it, and he felt as if he was being cleansed, physically, mentally, and spiritually. Slowly the feeling returned to his fingers, and it came in a spidery-like tingle that crawled up and down along his body.
He shivered slightly and was slowly able to drag himself up.
Everything was so painfully slow, but in an almost detached way.
It seemed hours before he was able to pull himself into a sitting position. Everything ached, but even that seemed an understatement, a measly word not fitting to truly describe the agony his body was going through.
The numbness was wearing off, and the sweet air seemed to thicken, and he was getting to feel somewhat suffocated.
Leaves crackled gently, and his head rose from inspecting his lower body for damage and onto the source from where the noise came from.
"Kuja...."
The whisper broke the spell that had seemed to bind him, and everything sharpened in almost painful contortions. Opposite of him, the still unconscious body had stopped moving, and the ragged breathing racked the slender shoulders. Gashes, stains, and torn clothing stained by new and dried blood covered the chest.
His mouth felt dry, and his lips felt cracked. He ran a tongue over the lower lip, and came away tasting copper.
The battered figure suddenly moved again, and a low, nearly inaudible, moan of pain followed. It echoed quietly in the otherwise silent surrounding.
He didn't know what possessed him to do what he did next, but it happened anyway.
He grit his teeth, fighting against the pain and haltingly began to move towards the other figure, practically crawling.
The earth scraped at him gently, and he was breathing heavily by the time he reached the unconscious man, who had only been a few feet away.
His body protested, and his muscles screamed at him, but he was somehow able to shove it back, making his own pains second to the shallowly-breathing man.
His gloves were mere tatters now, but they had helped to keep his hands from getting too much damage. He slipped a hand under the man's slender neck, and slid gently so that he cradled the head instead.
A breathless spell from his lips, and a little more color left him, and entered the pale face. The long eyelashes fluttered, and then opened to reveal the clear, fathomless blue eyes.
His optimism never failing, he gave a small smile that was just slightly forced.
"Glad to see that you're alive."
The eyes remained unreadable, and the face still impassive.
Finally, the pale lips moved, but though the eyes showed nothing, and they never left his face.
"You should have let me die."
This was not the proud man of beauty surpassing those of any woman he'd ever seen. This was not the being whose perfection had made him feel nothing more than a cast off token. This was not the man who desired the world, the universe, the power.
This was a man who had become a broken doll; his voice hollow and empty.
And he could do nothing to stop the tears that flowed so freely, that glistened with an inner light of their own as they slid down the pale, gaunt cheeks of the man, the hybrid, the creature across from him.
There were no more words said, and the hoarse, ragged whisper was swallowed into the air.
And there was silence once more in the atmosphere that had begun to take on a stifling and suffocating presence.