Please enjoy this fanfiction, my first of many to come.
And review too So that I can make changes appropriate in the next chapter! Thank you!
Seymour x Yuna
Info:
Name: Seymour Guado
Age: 28
Height: 7"
Birthplace: Guadosalam
Overdrive: Requiem
Part 1: "Life is but a passing dream, but the death that follows is eternal."
Shoulders slung in tired heat, he feel to the ground, his knees shaking uncontrollably. It's not the first time his muscles burned from weakness and the draining of his mental power.
"Get up." His mother spoke softly from the dark corner of the temple, "Get up, Seymour."
"I can't move, Mother, I can't!" Tears poured from his eyes for the past three hours, and fresh tears meant nothing now. His face was smeared with sweat and grit. "I can't move…"
"Seymour, you have to become strong enough." Her eyes glowed in the darkness.
The young child cried and cried, pounding his fists on the ground in anger and frustration. "I don-don't have it in me!"
"Yes you do, Seymour." His mother walked to him, her shoes clicking on the stone floor, echoing down the hallway of stone figures in the Baaj Cloister of Trials. Their silent faces seemed to leer at mother and child in the darkness.
"You have to be strong. Your father banished us here for Yevon only knows why… you must show him you're strong – show Spira you're strong," She knelt to him, "Show me that you are strong."
With a newfound will, he pushed himself from the granite floor with shaking fists. His 8 year-old Guado frame shook with new found resolve. "Alright Mother, one more time."
Rising with her child in the dark, she commanded him loudly: "FIRAGA!"
The dark was illuminated at once by magic, bursting from the depths of Seymour's uniquely large hands as he gestured them – as if pulling an invisible boulder from the ground with every fiber of his strength, hands rising, shaking from the weight of the magic.
"MORE SEYMOUR!" She bellowed as light grew at an enormous rate in the passageway.
His hands trembled and every muscle in his body burned like the fire he controlled in his wake. Knees buckling and crashing on the ground, he did not give up, heightening the magic every second, his veins pulsating with hot blood, his eyes a hot amethyst. The great fire rose and rose, enveloping the great stone room with only Seymour and his mother untouched.
The heat was unbearable, and he grit his teeth in the blaze. Crying out in release, his small, fragile voice cracked in exhaustion. His mother, although a strong figure was noticeably sweating, but stared at her son continually, watching his progression earnestly. Her dark hair whipped around in the fire's breath.
She watched as his claw like hands rose above his head shaking, releasing the magic inside him to his fullest power. Beads of sweat and streams of tears poured down the side of his face and his sharp eyes never lost concentration on the blaze he was producing. She could not imagine the pain and focus he went through to create these magical spells. She only knew that he had to become stronger to face his father in the future.
"ENOUGH!" She yelled, her mouth the only thing moving. And as soon as she had roared her command, the inferno ceased instantaneously. Seymour collapsed on the floor in a heap of silk robes and sweat.
"Seymour." His mother went to his side, touching the back of his neck, slick with perspiration and dirt.
But Seymour didn't respond. His hoarse breathing and trembling limbs were enough of an answer to his mother, who reached inside her coral blue dress and retrieved a green luminescent bottle. Inside the teardrop shaped bottle was a beautifully yellow-gold liquid that sparkled in the dark corridors.
"Seymour, drink this." She turned her son over and placed the lip on the opening of his chapped lips. She gently tipped the glass until the shining liquid poured down his scathed mouth and scorched throat. His eyes opened slowly, revealing to his mother the brightness in his determined gaze.
"Mother…" He spoke softly, "I'm still not as strong as you want…"
"No son. But you're trying."
The liquid was completely drained from the bottle after moments and Seymour rose to his feet, with still remaining exhaustion, but with determination none-the-less. He faced his mother, looking up at her as she rose to her feet. She took his hand in hers and led him to the doors of the Fayth.
"There is no Fayth here, son."
He nodded quizzically. He already knew this.
She continued, opening the stone doors and looking inside the dark round room, "There is no Fayth here. But there will be soon."
"What do you mean? Is one going to come here?" Seymour asked weakly.
"No Seymour. No."
The room was drafty and droplets of condensation echoed and dripped in the abandoned gloom. There was a large bulge in the center of the room, as if someone blew a bubble underneath the stone tiles, and it hadn't quite yet popped.
Seymour's mother walked to the center of the mound and faced Seymour, who braced himself against the wall at the entrance. He looked at his mother, waiting for her next words. She was a pillar of strength in his eyes and he watched her intently, waiting for the climax of her explanation.
"Seymour, my son. There is no Fayth here yet, but I am about to bestow upon you the greatest gift I can give to you as your mother."
Seymour's hand slipped from the stone wall in exhaustion.
She clasped her hands to her chest in prayer, a sudden divine wind rustling her raven hair. She closed her eyes and the mound beneath her began to glow with yellow light.
By some unsaid understanding, Seymour looked at his mother in horror of his sudden realization.
"No! No! Mother! I know what you must be doing, and you mustn't!" Seymour fell to his knees at the entrance to the room, tears erupting from his eyes, "I need you mother! I need you here with me! I'll get stronger, I promise, don't leave me!"
Crying and looking up at his mother, he stretched out a fatigued hand to her, but she remained at the center of the source of light. Her feet rose off the ground lightly and she opened her eyes in prayer: "Seymour, listen to me now. You will be stronger with my Aeon inside you. You will help to defeat the evil in this world and become a great leader. I want this of you, my son."
She smiled warmly to him as the light emanating from beneath her played on her pristine face. Beads of light emitted from her chest, where her hands were firmly clasped. Her body turned in beautiful motion, as she became a part of the stone floor, sinking into the light beneath her as if it were a pool of reflective gold. As her shoulders began to submerge, her last words to him echoed ethereal and distant in the corridor: "All you need to do is call upon me, and I will be there."
As the tip of her head and long hair sank beneath the surface of the shining surface, Seymour found new strength, and while on his knees, began to pray. It was hard for him to accept that his mother was becoming and Aeon for him but he had to be strong: he bowed his head, and closed his eyes. The light was still shinning in the darkness from her departure.
Through hiccups and tears, he spoke aloud to his mother, in whatever place she was: "Mother, don't leave me, I need you here with me…I can't be by myself down here… not with out you."
And from the source of light in the center of the circular room rose a small orb, and as Seymour prayed, it moved swiftly to him, in a zigzag path, and entered his heart, where a pleasant warmth glowed inside him. He opened his eyes, and as the light dimmed he spoke out loud to himself and to his mother: "I will be stronger Mother, I promise!" He cried again in the lonely confines of the forgotten temple: "I PROMISE!"
Thank you for reading, and enjoy the next chapter! chants "REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!"
