A/N: These are super short (150 words or less) drabbles that I figured I'd simply group in one document.
Exhaustion
"Colonel, please look at this itinerary; it was given to us-"
"Ma'am, is the training ending early today instead-"
Their words were the buzzing of flies to Jihl's ears. Eyes shut, she rested against the railing. The wind caressed her, as her gloves did to each other.
Of course she was proud of her position. Sometimes, though, it shut her down. She admitted it. Muscles sore and with the bubbling of many voices entering her mind, she faced a lone soldier down below.
He sat, seemingly waiting for nothing. There was peace.
If only for just one day, Jihl thought.
Hourglass
She rested her glasses on the table as she leaned in to observe the crimson beads of sand before her.
In fact, she felt no need to look at all. She closed her eyes, a touch of a smile on her face as she listened.
There was a soft hiss as the sand piled at the bottom of the bronze hourglass; it was not abrasive but audible enough to silence everything else.
Jihl was always impatient, always begging to sail past the current day and set sights on the next.
But for once, she relaxed, savoring the passage of time.
Mosaic
Light found its way through dusty windows, marking the cracked texture of Jihl's gloves with a pale ochre glow.
Her fingers wound their way through the intricate tesserae that constituted the walls. She had never been here before, but curiosity as well as a day off from work encouraged her to explore.
She followed the patterns of swirling clouds and water with intrigued hands and eyes, the latter's green matching a depiction of trees.
Pulling away, she stepped back to observe the scene in full. Silly tiles. Nature was too peaceful here.
She sighed.
Calm, Jihl.
You're in your element.
Fakes
He looked at her as she turned away from the spectacle, obviously unmoved by the fantastic light show and its thousands of screaming viewers.
"Jihl... this show only happens once every three years. I want you to watch it with me."
"They're just a bunch of fakes."
"Well, of course; they're representing the actual fal'Cie."
"I know. The real ones are fakes, too."
"Jihl. They provided for us, and still do."
He paused, smiling.
"I know you like taking walks in the sunshine."
"They don't care. Even Phoenix gets too hot, and he doesn't listen when I tell him so."
Kaleidoscope
There must have been some mistake. Jihl pulled back the tape of the haphazardly resealed box and let its paper wrapping fall. The box was eased apart, slowly and delicately, and settled its lid on her desk.
Her gloves met the sort of wood that easily matched that of her furniture. Gold, its patterning even outclassing any on her uniform, shimmered as she carefully grasped the object.
Her confusion dissipated as her eye met one end of it. Then, silence. Glass and light. A staggered breath.
She stopped, then, the thing still held in her hands. This was worth keeping.
Present
"Happy birthday, Jihl."
The large yellow bird squawked and reared back as its harness was tugged by its presenter. The smile wouldn't leave Yaag's face as he watched his fellow officer's smirk descend into a horrified frown.
"Yaag..."
The female commander backed up as the bird murmured and attempted to nip at the frames of her glasses.
"You know I'm allergic to these things."
"I know. But what's a fine colonel to do without her trusty steed?"
Jihl sighed. The chocobo leaned in and thrust its fluffy face into its new owner's, resulting in an indignant sneeze from the latter.
Desolate
Finally, she pulled a glove off.
Cracked skin felt as frail as old paper, but fresh blood betrayed the dryness. She winced, pulled her legs in closer as the breeze picked up, and looked to the sky.
A gray haze was broken by a burst of light. It was storming again, she concluded, and she quietly braced herself for it. The tree could only provide so much shelter.
That first drop of rain seemed colder than usual.
She traced along the torn edge of her coat and watched her shadow. It drifted, hiding from the oncoming clouds, and left her.
A/N: This next one is about her parents. Make of that what you will.
Darling
The home was silent. Typical for the nighttime, and yet, tonight brought a sheer stillness that jarred the bedroom's two inhabitants.
"Are you cold, darling?"
He was at the doorway; she was on the bed. He saw her arms, milky-white under the solitary lamp, shiver.
"No. You always think that."
He leaned against the door, watching her.
Even when irritated, she had that same effect on him. Green eyes lacked the weariness of his own; her skin clear, not cracked like his.
"Shall I turn the light out for you?"
"Yes."
Darkness. He smiled.
She watched his silhouette and sighed.
Kaleidoscope II
He knew immediately it was for her: polished wood traced in gold, colors from within glinting as they caught the light.
The next day, he inspected it closely after thanking its maker profusely for his expedient amendment. Now it was perfect. Divine.
The one precious crystal was worth it.
For her.
He remembered her. Surely she hadn't changed: there she was, her long hair somehow in the way of her hands when they needed to work, her eyes greener than her beloved waterscape, still adjusting to new lenses.
He had no doubt she'd love it.
Even if for a second.
Gravity
She didn't even bother trying to get up.
It gripped her; the weight of a thousand stones bearing down and pressing her face against the dusty surface of a clearing.
She couldn't see the ship leave out of the corner of her eye. She could barely focus on a blur beyond the horizon and the dirt directly before her.
It didn't quite hit her until just then.
Sudden silence. The rustle of grass, maybe, or a distant bird call.
Breathing out flooded her chest with pain. Lifting a hand to pull away ragged strands of her was no easier.
The blood had already soaked through.
She had succumbed to the cursed planet, letting its pull hold her. After the hostile craft left, she had allowed herself just those few moments of calm before the wyverns, making their daily rounds overhead, granted her a reminder of her place in this world.