A/N: Looking back, I see that the 'She' Fang and Vanille refer to might be misinterpreted as how the Goddess is addressed in the Analects -if this 'She' comes into play, however, our party might wish they were to deal with the Goddess instead. xD Aside from that, Name:'s review does bring up a pretty good point; personally, I find Vanille a bit tricky to capture given that her character is built on how the cheery girl we see for the most of the game serves as a mask over an emotionally tormented individual. Course, it doesn't help that Vanille's comments are usually followed up by an action (skipping, clasping her hands together, shoving a kid without a driver's license into the front seat of an airbike...). But I digress.
3
Steam billowed from the spout of the tea kettle, its impatient shriek cut off as quickly as it sounded. Pouring the boiling water into its designated cup Serah set the kettle aside to cool, clasping both hands around the cup and turning to lean against the counter.
The exterior of the home shared by Lightning, Snow and herself bore little difference from the others in Winhill Avenue -a number of lightweight airships arranged in the style of apartment complexes, ranging from standard colours of silver, slate blue and bronze. Granted, the manufactured appearance softened under natural occurrences; infant ivy strands secured themselves to railings and stretched up towards windowsills while wildflowers and blades of grass lined porches and alleyways, braving the cloying dust kicked up from the road.
It would take far longer than a handful of weeks for the buildings to fully blend into their surroundings, yet Serah was quite content with the interior of her home. As any other family they had come to Gran Pulse with little more than the clothes on their backs and the contents of their pockets. To excavate keepsakes from crystallized homes was as much a waste of resources as it was a selfish motive, and though the lack of her mother's smiling, framed portrait or one of father's paintings had been somewhat disquieting, the cloud of unsettlement hanging over her was cast aside with the overwhelming relief of having the two people she loved most alive, unharmed and on good terms with one another.
She paused at the window on her way back to the study, carefully examining the fragile sprouts basking in the sunlight. While hunting for Flans, Yuj had come across a meadow of lavender flowers. He was of the belief that the particular hue would complement the colour of her hair; taking his word for it, Serah accepted Yuj's gift in hopes that it would aid the operation of livening up the rust-coloured walls.
Returning to the study she took a cautious sip of tea, savouring the steeped aroma. The difference of quality between Cocoon-grown ingredients and those harvested in Gran Pulse was startling to the point in which the thought of returning to the nourishment (or lack thereof) of her birth land was on par with ingesting artificially enhanced cardboard. She hovered before the desk momentarily, clearing a space for the cup amid a collection of jot notes, history texts and bookmarks. Once the workspace was arranged to her liking she untucked a pen from behind her ear and resumed writing.
From the beginning she understood that chronicling the Second Coming of Ragnarok would be an ambitious endeavour. Since waking from stasis Serah seized any opportunity to uncover the events following the Purge and lasting until the fall of Cocoon. The truth was related to her from four reliable sources; shortly after did it occur to her that, outside of direct association and kinship to the former l'Cie, the chance of anyone knowing the truth was slim to none.
She was not tackling this project alone -a few of her friends offered assistance with recording the circumstances leading up to the Purge, as well as their experience with their fragmenting society from the mob mentalities stewing in Palumpolum to the widespread panic in Eden. Serah was grateful for their help; relieved, moreover, that her friends did not pry at the conspicuous lack of communication from her at that time.
Perusing a notebook containing the pronunciation guide Serah frowned slightly. She wished for the identity of the l'Cie responsible for Anima's awakening to remain as it was -unknown and unsought by the public mind. The l'Cie who saved the people of Cocoon were the ones who deserved to be remembered. Those were the ones who were not at risk of being classified with the likes of Cid Raines; the knowledge of his noble attempts to rebel against the fal'Cie curse was drowned out by the status he was appointed to, earning him posthumous revulsion.
Unwilling to contemplate further into the unsettling subject, she addressed the footnotes disputing the names of Eidolons. Letty of Besaid Lane was convinced from their last conversation that 'Styria' was a misspelling of 'Stiria', whereas Ellone, who lived a few doors down from Serah, was more absorbed in whether or not 'Hecatoncheir' should be simplified as 'Hecaton' to minimize errors. Finishing her corrections Serah smiled at the sound of familiar, heavy footsteps exiting the living room. With the tea in hand she strode to the doorway and observed.
Mindful of the passenger atop his shoulders, Snow Villiers sidestepped the lamp hanging from the ceiling, "You sure it's not under the furnace?" he inquired.
Said passenger, barely a week into his seventh year, responded matter-of-factly, "Hina's a she, not an it."
"Right, my bad."
As Dajh's school was on the route home from NORA Transports, Snow's tendency to look after him on early dismissal days had become routine. On the occasion of having no afternoon classes to attend, Serah took similar action, for Dajh's cheerful personality quickly captured their hearts. Lightning permitted this schedule on the grounds of convenience -the necessity of bringing his son home before sunset gave Sazh the chance to put his work on hold and regroup with them, brainstorming the means to free the two Oerbans from imprisonment. It was a fair call yet Serah was not blind to the every-so-often evidence that proved her elder sister was no more immune than the rest of them to the young Katzroy.
The boy's voice carried out into the hall even as the man moved to the foyer, investigating the coat rack for any indication of the runaway. "Daddy says Miss Fang knows everything about anything on Gran Pulse." Thoughtfully, Dajh added, "Maybe she'll tell me all about the wild Chocobos when she and Miss Vanille wake up!"
Snow retained a confident tone, the melancholic shade in his eyes unseen by the boy. "Once this family is safe and sound, we'll head down to the Steppe. The wild flocks live around there -some grow taller than me and your old man put together."
Dajh grinned excitedly, "No way..."
Slipping back into the study Serah set the teacup on top of a low bookshelf flanked by a distressed armchair, having lost sight of the comfort associated with the beverage. The feeling of crystal stasis had yet to thaw from her memories. There would be nights in which she would wake in a panic, recalling the stillness of her lungs, her heart flitting between the boundaries of slumber and suffocation. How anyone could endure five centuries of terrifying repose was beyond her; for the two people responsible for the survival of her nearest and dearest might face such a state of being for eternity was something she would not stand for.
Perhaps their progress in reviving the Oerbans went hand in hand with the road leading to a stable city, to a time and place that could accommodate matrimony. As far as she was concerned, weddings were not organized overnight, and it would take a far greater force than that of fal'Cie combined for her to even imagine doubting the support and devotion of her intended.
A shiver ran along the pillow resting on the armchair. Serah pulled it aside, receiving the fugitive's inquisitive, beady eyes with an amused smile prior to summoning Snow and Dajh.
Hina was among a generation of captivity-born Chocobos whose adult height would surpass that of their parents by a few inches. Whether or not the longevity of the Chocobo chick would also benefit from the nutrients of untreated feed had yet to be determined, though the effect it had on her girth was unquestionable.
Serah scooped up the rotund chick with both hands, stroking her downy wing while the boy clambered down from Snow's shoulders. Hina willed her stubby wings into flight, hovering into an easy landing atop her master's head as he remembered his manners, "Thanks for finding her, Auntie Serah."
"We can't let Snow get away with all the hero business," the younger Farron teased. Her fiancé grinned, wrapping an arm around her shoulders while feigning lament, "Just when I thought it would end with Light -I might as well retire."
Ever perceptive Dajh tilted his head at the way Serah leaned into Snow's side, a light warble from Hina affirming that the ideal distance between him and the presence of cooties was rapidly diminishing. Noticing the guarded expression passed between boy and Chocobo, the man inclined his head in the direction of the kitchen. "Want to check out that leftover dessert situation?"
The boy dashed out of the study before the sentence was finished, accompanied by Hina's enthusiastic chirping. Embraced in silence the couple put the world on hold; haunting despairs and parasitic uncertainties cast aside in light of what was here and now, in tranquillity that would never again fall victim to the machinations of false deities and the ensuing degrees of separation.
Clay red dust hung in the air with the consistency of fog, aggravating sight and breath as it arose from the yawning chasm. Coughing against the back of his hand Amodar stood where he would not be in the way of the paramedics swarming around makeshift tents and body bags fashioned from the same material. In spite of their experience and unparalleled response time, the head of ISD affairs faced the predicament with military scruples; before the hour was out, it was likely that the souls who were caught up in the heart of the rockslide would be unsalvageable as the path linking Mah'habara to the Springs.
In the cage of Cocoon the fal'Cie Yojimbo had supervised geological activity, arranging land formations to the highest potential of support beneath roads, cities and travel routes. Limited as his acquaintance with natural disasters was, Amodar was unable to shake the feeling of this being an abnormal occurrence. Just as well, Gran Pulse in itself was something he was gradually familiarizing with -landslides like these could very well be commonplace in other parts of this world.
He grit his teeth at the echoes slithering past the earthen haze, desperate voices pleading for freedom, loved ones, the salvation of clean air. The former Lieutenant cursed his helplessness, cursed his willingness to stand idle as the people of Bodhum -his neighbours and friends therein, were shipped off to the Hanging Edge for the greater good of Cocoon citizens. Accounts of what had transpired there varied, from the site of a terrorist attack to the attempted rescue of innocent lives. To Amodar it all amounted to the same outcome -nothing but grief repeating the pattern of war, of old men talking and young people dying.
An individual hurried through the fog; differentiating the person's steady pace from the urgent jog of medics Amodar remained where he was. With a few feet between them the identity of the young woman became clear, her approach defined by professional solemnity. "ESD is on their way, sir."
From afar the reverberation of the landslide could be easily mistaken for the thunderous step of an adamantoise. The former Lieutenant was unwilling to chance that the fiends of Gran Pulse would assume the same and pass on the opportunity of trapped, defenceless prey.
The woman scrutinized the edges of the chasm as though the dust had lifted; recognizing it as a trait typical to Corps Gunners, Amodar spoke, the earth particles scratching his voice, "What's your evaluation, Torres?"
"Recovery teams estimate a sixty foot drop. Out of the thirty civilians involved, eleven are still unaccounted for. As of the last half-hour, there are five confirmed casualties." Clearing her throat she went on, "We have yet to determine the number of workers to be recovered. However, there is indication that they were in the process of transporting Dreadnoughts from their storage units within the mines."
Torres remark on the welfare of the workers lacked assurance, for Amodar knew as well as she did that the likelihood of the machines crushing the passengers they were designed to protect depended on the stability of the chasm's edge. The restoration of these machines was what brought the civilians to the mines -a class of students touring the Subterra as part of their studies in engineering.
"Anything else to report?" the former Lieutenant asked, not wishing to dwell on the five, perhaps counting losses, irreplaceably taken from their parents and siblings.
Bemusement flickered across Torres' dark eyes, "One of my associates did notice that one of your subordinates was listed on a student's contact card."
Amodar raised an eyebrow, "Did you get a name on the kid?"
"Something along the lines of Esteem-"
"Estheim."
He gave Lightning a curt nod of acknowledgement, noting the thin, taut line Torres' lips formed at the younger woman's sudden presence. The former l'Cie were invaluable in regards to the wellbeing and protection of the people, yet lingering sentiments of trepidation towards them were not uncommon. Amodar recalled his surprise upon seeing the broadcast from Palumpolum; his comrade was called a monster though her appearance bore no eldritch mutations. She was called a threat despite no report of civilian casualties or attacks during the time in which she had travelled from the harbour to the Agora. It had been a confusing time; all that mattered now was that Farron was no longer a l'Cie. She had returned to her family, set up a new life for herself and, miracle that it was, managed the occasional laugh.
"How's the situation?" Lightning asked, calmly walking a couple feet ahead of the ISD affiliates for a better look at the abyss.
The former Lieutenant addressed her, eliminating the possibility of inferred animosity in an incident that demanded cooperation. "Eleven civilians are still MIA," he debriefed, "No word on the exact number of workers trapped down there. It's at least sixty -Farron, where are you -whoa, hold it!"
Ignoring Amodar's alarm Lightning vaulted into a run, the cold electricity of the AMP glossing over her body as she dove headfirst into the chasm.
A small commotion among the recently-arrived ESD members was dispersed as Amodar snapped out of his incredulity to bark orders at them. Torres blinked once, her comment announcing the winner in the battle waged between contempt and awe as they vied for a hint of recognition in her voice.
"Damn."
"You're telling me." The former Lieutenant sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Notes: Ellone and Winhill are references to a character and location in Final Fantasy VIII, as are Letty and Besaid in regards to Final Fantasy X.
'Hina' is still disputed as an unofficial name for the Chocobo chick -I've yet to hear any news as to where it originated from. However, I'm using it on the basis that is sounds endearing (and, in Japanese, translates as 'young bird/chick').
Yojimbo is one of the summons present in Final Fantasy X.
Fun fact: This makes Snow the third person to have Dajh on their shoulders, the first being Sazh and the second being Yaag Rosch. That's right. Yaag 'Surrender l'Cie' Rosch advocates piggyback rides, as shown in Sazh's portion of the web novelization.
