a really short one. ha ha ha
She stands there, wind against her back, petals swirling at her feet. Here. Here are the memories of days long past, a smile she once cherished, a cocky noble who became her closest friend. Here is everything.
Her throat constricts painfully, remembering those days. Remembering the way he smiled even in the face of death, the way he tried to hide his pain in his final days. She recalled those long, agonizing nights, dark nights when the moon gleamed like the whisper of a recollection of better days, days that would never return. She recalled his whimpers in his sleep, his mutters that mirrored his true sentiments.
I don't want to die. It's too scary. Will it hurt? I don't want to die.
She tilts her head back, stares at the glimmering white moon in the inky-black sky. Her throat relaxes. A song wells in her throat, overflowing, reaching out. It has been too long since she last sang this song - the song of Yulia, the song of the covenant between a mortal and a god, the song that marked his death and his rebirth.
The petals begin to swirl faster, flying into the air as if possessed by a phantom cyclone. They swirl around her head, brush her cheeks, and she closes her eyes and allows the song to pour out of her. Oh, how she has missed this song.
Across the valley, a burst of wind ripples through the field. The selenias bend and more pearly-white petals fly, glowing against the black of the night sky. The petals whirl faster, faster, faster, fervently.
She opens her eyes, and he is there.
Red hair, glowing in the radiant moonlight, green eyes filled with the wisdom of the world.
"What is it that you want, descendant of Yulia?"
The words are so unfamiliar, and at first her heart twangs painfully like the lonely strums of an out-of-tune guitar. But then she swallows, remembers, clears her mind of sins. This is he. She cannot back down now.
"I'm sorry," she says. "I'm sorry for... for not calling upon you for so long. I've... I've missed you."
He seems to hesitate, and once again her hearts pangs with the pain of parting. Then he smiles, perhaps a bit hesitantly. "As have I... Tear."
It seems to take him a moment to recall her name, to conjure it from the depths of his memory that spans the life of the planet. She smiles, and perhaps, she thinks, it is forced like his. It certainly feels that way. Her heart wants to soar, but it's breaking, little by little.
She takes a tiny step forward; she isn't brave enough to do any more, but no less. She persists with her small, strained smile, hoping that he doesn't notice, and if he does, he doesn't mind. After all, he is not the boy she once knew. He is a god.
"Lorelei," she finally manages, and her voice breaks. It is a name that is not familiar on her tongue the way Luke is. It does not conjure images of a determined boy that stood by her side, someone she had once promised to watch, a boy who overdid everything, a boy who sought the meaning of his birth, a boy who wanted to live but died.
"What is it, child?" he says, and his voice is utterly foreign to her. It is certainly the same voice, albeit a few strains lower, but his tone is gentle and overlooking in a way she is not used to.
She looks up, tries to meet him in the eye even when her body shakes from the effort. Those are not his eyes. Those are eyes filled with ancient wisdom, understanding, a sort of ethereal knowledge. He was not like that. She smiles again, tries a bit harder. "Natalia misses you. She'd like to see you again, maybe just once. Perhaps I'll bring her next time."
And for a second, his face changes. He smiles, a bit shyly, and it is genuine.
"...Thank you. I miss her." His voice is lower, gentle, polite. She knows this voice. "I'm... Is she doing well?"
His voice is so full of concern that, for a second, she forgets her own pains and smiles, though it's a bit sad. There is simply something so touching about a childhood friend looking out for another, even after years and years of separation and pain.
"Yes. As queen, Kimlasca is prospering. She's making sure everyone leads a good life, even without the Score," she promises, and the look of relief on his face is enough to make her crack a smile. "I knew you'd be glad to hear that."
"...Yes," he says. "I loved both Kimlasca and its princess."
He pauses for a second, as if contemplating memories of times long past, then speaks. "...Thank you."
He sees his presence beginning to fade away, being replaced by the godlike indifference of Lorelei, and for a second she wants to cry out, release her every desire and wish. She wants to ask him, plead with him, to allow her to talk with the boy that walked the same path as she, the boy who grew and the boy who died. It is better asking him than the god; he is more familiar, more human.
But she knows that is asking for too much. That boy is... not there anymore. All that remains of him are his memories, locked somewhere away in a cage no bigger than a speck of dust within the unending memory of a god who could see time.
She falls back, not realizing she has stepped forward in desperation. The petals brush her ankles, entangle themselves in her hair. He smiles, but it is still so distant.
"Descendant of Yu-Tear," he says, and it is awkward and unfamiliar even to his tongue. "Is there anything else you came to say?"
Yes, something whispers in the back of her mind. She pushes it away.
"I...I..." she struggles to find the right words. She desperately wants to stay with him longer - even if he fails to share the same expression, familiarity, and tone, he still looks like him. And after missing him for years, somehow that brings her empty solace. But she shakes her head. "No. No, nothing more. I'm sorry for wasting your time."
The moon is high in the sky. She wants to stay here, just stand in front of him, bask in the meaningless solace of his appearance, to clear her mind and pretend she is just standing next to him, like the night they met, like that night upon the Albiore.
She closes her eyes, tries to take in the sound of the birds twittering in their sleep, the roar of the sea and the strum of crickets. Tries to take in his presence, but it isn't there.
She opens her eyes. The petals are beginning to gather at the edges of his clothes, along the tattered edge of his cape. She thinks she can see the glittering ocean through him, trembling and glowing.
"Goodbye, Mystearica," he says. And then he turns, brilliant crimson hair sweeping through the air, cape flapping in the wind. He walks towards the cliff, white petals blooming and sprouting at his feet, flying into the air, twirling around him.
She can see his edges disappearing in a flurry of petals, eating at the ends of his cape, erasing the ends of his hair and his sword.
Now.
Her heart is clanging in her chest, crying out. No. No. She cannot call out; it would be meaningless; he is gone now.
Now. Or never again.
Her heart screams.
Now!
She runs forward. Her hands clench around the disappearing ends of his cape even as it disintegrates under her fingers. He turns slightly in surprise, and even she is startled when her voice comes in miserable sobs.
"I was foolish," she says. "The day... the day you died, I... I was afraid. Even... even though I knew you were going to die, and I knew I'd never be able to speak to you again, I couldn't... I couldn't say it loud enough for you to hear."
She knows her efforts are meaningless. She knows he's no longer there. The fabric melts under her fingers, melts to air, and she falls back, shoulders shaking.
"But now... I won't make that same mistake." Her voice wants to shy away, but there's no turning back. Not now. She looks up, despite everything, and raises her voice. "I... I love you. Even if you're gone now."
He says nothing, only continues to stare back at her. Slowly, he begins to disappear, from the bottom up, in a flurry of petals.
And then he smiles. A smile filled with sadness, a smile filled with his childish innocence and his determination. A smile so familiar, in that instant, her heart breaks.
"I do, too," he says, and his voice is higher and so familiar that she wants to bask in those three, short words forever.
And with that final, fleeting smile, he disappears.
