"Papa's little honey bee,
humble little bumble bee,
Buzz, buzz, buzz
How you hum inside my heart!
Papa's little beauty, my
cutie little fruity fly,
Promise me,
we'll never be
apart."
Braska's feet kicked back and forth in the tepid waters of the Moonflow, his robes gathered in a bunch around his white thighs. Undulating ribbons of color glittered in the water, trailing behind the pyreflies which had collected in small numbers on the budding moon lilies along the shore. The summoner's voice seemed to soothe them.
"Papa's little pyrefly…
My feisty little firefly,
Shine, shine, shine
so the world can see you glow.
Papa's little honey bun,
funny little sunny one,
Papa's leaving for a while
but doesn't want to go …"
The travel agency was dark, sleep tugged at Auron's eyelids, but the memory of the nightly lullaby, sung in a spot far removed from the campsite but often within earshot, played in his head ceaselessly, until he found himself humming the tune.
Braska dabbed gently at the tears streaming down his cheeks, uncaring if anyone had seen his shame, and after taking a deep breath he tried to continue his crooning, though the touch of a hand to his shoulder surprised him.
"Lord Braska," Auron's voice was soft, almost inaudible.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
Auron paused, feeling his chest tighten. He had heard it before, that gut reaction, Braska's unthinking response to a soft voice, a hand on his sleeve, one which came so naturally he often could not understand his guardians' puzzled reactions. This time Braska realized his mistake, but only looked down.
"I miss her, Auron," he sighed. Though tears escaped him his voice was composed. Serious as always. A smile on his lips.
"I understand, my lord."
"No," Braska shook his head, smiling. "Excuse me for saying it, but, having no children, you ... can't possibly understand. What is it we're trying to accomplish? What … am I doing here, Auron?" He turned, his smile betraying his wet cheeks, his hopeful eyes suddenly squinted and tired. A twinge of fear gritted Auron's jaw. He held his breath, searching for what to say, feeling the weight of Braska's dependence on him reaching its critical mass, as if any moment he might collapse from the pressure.
"You're doing it for her, Lord Braska," Auron eventually stammered. His hand tightened its grip on the summoner's robe.
"You're giving Yuna a chance."
Rin rose early, preparing his breakfast before sunlight broke over the Calm Lands, his face drawn from a long night of travel and unexpected hospice care. A piece of toast, with a margarine spread, accompanied by an entire tin of black coffee which he would nurse throughout the morning. Business as usual, he mused, after all, it was a welcome part of life for the modern Al Bhed. He pocketed the fat purse of gil which had been left for him at the counter, cheerfully patting his side to hear the coins jingle, and catching himself on the edge of the desk as his foot suddenly slid from underneath him. A trail of blood, footprints to the left and a long, smeared streak to the right, led from the back room and out the front door, far across the grassy plains of the Calm Lands where they disappeared into the morning mist.
