Explanations now. The Sylph storyline is evidently more major now, but I'm still adding somewhat fluffy breaks in.
Anyway, I hope you still enjoy this story. It's not over yet...
"The Sylph are not fal'Cie."
The words still seemed to resound in the air.
"They are ghosts."
And the new Sylph still kept Sazh's gaze, even as it finished its speech.
"I'm sorry Dad."
Choco took a few leaps along the stone floor, all the way up to the floating 'fal'Cie'/ghost. It bowed its head, cawing as the Sylph patted its feathers with one leaf.
"Dajh?" Sazh eventually spoke, amazed, disbelieving, sad, millions of emotions in his voice.
"That's me," the Sylph looked up, grinning half-heartedly.
"Everyone's thinking this," Hope eventually joined the conversation, "But how the f-"
"Hope," Lightning warned
"Sorry," the silver haired man looked sideways, guilty, "Still, how?"
"Don't ask me," the Sylph was speaking in its deeper voice, now identifiable as Dajh's, peering over Choco, "I was born less than a week ago, it's very distracting."
"So," Fang began, "You're a ghost, and we're just supposed to believe that?"
"Of course not!" Dajh-Sylph protested, "There's a reason behind it."
"You just said you didn't know," Vanille piped up, perky
"I do know, it's just not easy to explain. Ask someone else."
"Who?" Lightning muttered, rolling her eyes.
Dajh-Sylph said nothing. Instead, he looked over the audience, including the silent Sazh, before focusing on the space next to Lightning. The other Sylph sat there, wrapping itself up in its leaves. Soon, it looked up, peering at Dajh-Sylph.
"No," it shook its head upon realizing what Dajh was asking, "I said we shouldn't tell them. It's the reason the Sylph killed you."
"Please," Dajh hovered closer, "We need you to explain, you've had five hundred years to find out why, I've had days. I could probably just give them your description, but I can't remember it all, please."
"I'm trying to help you," the other Sylph's human-sounding voice was calm, "You know what would happen if the Sylph found out what we'd told them."
"We've already told them!" Dajh threw his leaves up into the air, nearing the other Sylph, "Just explaining it isn't going to do any harm. You told me you didn't want to submit to the Sylph, now's your chance."
"I…" the native Sylph stuttered, before looking down. A moment later, it hovered a few centimetres into the air. "Alright."
Almost reluctantly, it hovered until it was in front of the crowd. It sighed. Almost totally still, the Sylph closed its eyes, and half a minute ticked by, before it opened them again.
"No Sylph coming anywhere near for the next few hours," it announced, "Fine. The story starts one thousand years ago, with the first Ragnarok."
"Me?" Fang interjected, not putting emphasis on any part of the word, merely sounding sceptical
"You scarred Cocoon," the Sylph spoke softly, "So many lives lost. The Maker moved closer, pulling Herself through the door of souls. The door to death. It opens for each departing soul, and when a great flood fall through, the door is swung open. The Maker attempted to escape, but the door did not stay open long enough. Instead, the opposite happened; She blocked the path."
"Ah," Hope nodded slowly, "I get it. The Sylph are the people she knocked away."
"Precisely," it nodded, "Each soul, touched by the Maker, was thrown back into the world. Each connected by the Maker's mind. All Sylph are two: the person who it used to be, and the Maker Herself."
"That's why we've never heard of them," Fang murmured, joining hands with Vanille, "They didn't even exist until we were crystal."
"The first time, few were transformed. Those that did were mostly Cocoon soldiers: all in Oerba were protected by Anima. We knew nothing of the Chosen, save for the myths, legends, and the curses shouted to Cocoon."
"This is starting to make sense," Lightning noted,
"The second time, when Cocoon fell, many, many more lives were lost. The Maker stood upon the precipice of rebirth, and as the lights seeped through, the door to the beyond was sealed. Many millions of Sylph were born. They wish to see the return of the Maker, of whom they are a part."
"Who did you used to be?" Vanille murmured, quiet
""I don't know," the Sylph spoke smoothly, "The memories of before are unclear, the Sylph have been fighting my mind for many centuries, I only recently gained full control."
"But why are you the only one who can control yourself?" Fang interjected, frowning
"I do not know," it conceded, "Though I have many guesses. Now that Dajh has reappeared, I think it has something to do with being l'Cie: l'Cie are closer to the Maker, she created fal'Cie to be close to Her, and the fal'Cie created l'Cie to be closer. I believe there may be some immunity due to the closeness. I too remember the brand of the l'Cie, though whether it was my own, I do not know."
"Hang on," Fang suddenly spoke, "If you're not fal'Cie, how did the Sylph brand me and Vanille?"
"Because some Sylph are fal'Cie," it shrugged, "fal'Cie too died when Cocoon fell, the abilities have been diluted, but spread to every Sylph."
A moment of silence slowly trickled past, the ex-l'Cie digesting the information. They didn't know whether to be relieved or afraid: Dajh had survived, but with him, he'd brought the unwelcome news that there were tens of millions of Sylph. Anyone who'd died when the Maker was close would now be a Sylph.
If they were l'Cie, they'd have a remnant of their old identity. Did that include the Cocoon-haters of so many years ago, the people of Pulse?
"No!" a voice shouted out. Everyone turned, half-scared to find the source of the voice. They were surprised to see it was the normally calm Sazh.
"Why- how are y," he stumbled over the words, "Why are you Dajh? Life just isn't that kind."
"Dad…" the Dajh-Sylph murmured, soft, floating up to his father, "It is this time, please believe me."
"Why?" Sazh suddenly snapped, "I can't just…" Sazh's voice trailed off.
"You want me to prove it?" Dajh's voice came eerily well from the Sylph's lips, "Alright. Remember Nautilus? It's where we met once you became a l'Cie. Ms Nabaat took me to see you; I always wanted to go to Nautilus. Chocobos. It's where you bought Choco, remember?"
"Don't," Sazh spoke through gritted teeth, "Please, don't."
"Dad," the Sylph persisted, "It's me, please believe."
Choco cawed, a singsong trill as it bounded over to Dajh-Sylph. It lowered its head, offering its beak to the Sylph.
Smiling, Dajh reached out a leaf, ruffling the yellow neck-feathers. Choco cawed appreciatively.
"You always said not to disagree with a chocobo," Dajh pointed out
"I did, didn't I," Sazh murmured, reflective, somehow more moved by Choco than by Dajh's earlier, impassioned plea.
For a few moments, they were oblivious to the rest of the world. Sazh, sitting, arm raised, with his hand cupping the cheek of his half-resurrected son. Dajh hovered there, perched on the head of the trilling Choco. At peace, a family again.
"I missed you…Dajh," Sazh murmured through a sob.
"Me too, dad," Dajh whispered, quiet.
"Kweh," Choco added.
The chocobo cawed again, before pacing around, away from the main group. It plodded around a few steps, along the side of Dajh, towards the stone wall. It cawed again. An expression of confusion passed over its face, Choco turning around again, moving with its light gait over to a whitish sports bag Sazh had carried and put down beneath his seat.
Frowning, Choco bent down, pecking at the bag. A few moments later, the tip of its beak tore through the fabric. Sazh just chuckled, unable to be saddened with his son by his side. Satisfied, Choco withdrew its beak, munching on a few greens it had taken from inside the bag.
"Damn!" their native Sylph suddenly swore loudly, its normal mild manners gone.
"Huh," Fang was the next to speaks, "Don't tell me, another problem."
"Not quite," the Sylph was speaking slowly, thoughtfully, "Earlier, the Maker almost came through. That saved Dajh, but there is still one detail we're forgetting. The Maker is sensitive, very sensitive to our world. She almost came through simply on one person's fury. The most recent was unquestionably the strongest the Maker has been, She gets closer each time, and there must have been many similar events after the fall of Cocoon. But why?"
It paused, to let out an annoyed grunting noise.
"Why is She so close to us?" the Sylph muttered, "There's something keeping Her near," it announced eventually, "I don't know what, but something has to be pulling her closer."
"I can guess where," Vanille chimed, sidling closer to Fang
"What?" the Sylph span, leaves whirling up, "How?"
"A few Sylph visited us earlier," Fang revealed, "Wanted us to join them, against you. Wanted us to call the Maker, kill a lot of people, like you said: but they said to stay away from Cocoon."
"Cocoon!" the Sylph gasped, understanding, "Of course, I should've thought of that earlier. The event to have brought the Maker closest to our world took place in Orphan's Cradle: when the world began to fall. The door of souls must be there."
"Back up," Sazh rejoined the conversation, Dajh on his shoulder, "This is sounding more and more like a B-movie."
"It's simple," the Sylph sighed, speaking quickly, "The door of souls is what binds the Maker to our world; she is trying to come through it. The door was thrown open in Orphan's Cradle, giving it a strong manifestation at the particular point. At some point after that, something stuck, probably at Her whim. Easy."
"Easy," Sazh echoed, unsure.
"Glad you've got it. Now if you don't mind," the Sylph sounded as if it was going to continue speaking, but instead it flashed and vanished, the light not dissimilar to those that appeared when the Maker was coming through.
Everyone just sat there, no one quite willing to make the first move and get up. Not after that.
"Next week's gonna be fun," Sazh eventually commented, rolling his eyes
"Why?" Vanille chirped, "What's next week?"
"Snow and Serah get back," he responded, "Boy, they're never gonna believe this."
X
"Again!" Lightning shouted, twirling her blade and charging at Fang. "We need to be prepared for the Sylph."
"Sorry sunshine," the Gran Pulsian muttered, "But this really isn't going to help."
"It will," the pink haired soldier shot back, her Blazefire Saber clanging onto Fang's spear.
"Seriously?" Fang was literally dancing now, enjoying herself but not really trying. A moment alter, her expression hardened.
The Pulsian took a few nimble steps back, jabbing forwards and releasing her spear. Lightning easily knocked it away, an expression of surprise on her face. All she did however was make the spear start to spin; Fang had unlocked it, so it was spinning in three loosely connected fragments. Lightning reacted, knocking the other, loose side away, looking up, expecting to see Fang unarmed.
She wasn't there. A split second later, the Gran Pulsian surprised Lightning, tackling the soldier to the ground. Lightning felt a hand prise the Saber out of her grasp, and a moment later, the pink haired woman was pinned to the ground, her own weapon at her throat.
Smiling, Fang hopped to her feet, tossing the sword back to Lightning.
"Going to listen now?" Fang remarked as she picked up her spear, "Just sparring isn't going to train us for fighting the Sylph, hell, they're smaller than Vanille,"
"Hey!" the redhead protested, interrupting
"Sorry," Fang shot an apologetic grin across the field, "This isn't like PSICOM, where everyone's the same. This time just training amongst each other isn't going to cut it."
"Fang-" Lightning began
"Save it," the Gran Pulsian interrupted, "I'm through."
Fang turned, and marched off, across the grounds just in front of her house where everyone was sparring, into the door and entering the building.
It had been a few days since the revelation at the funeral. Since then, Lightning had taken charge, in her words, trying to train everyone. The soldier had insisted they work together to 'take down the Sylph'.
From then on, they'd been divided into pairs, trying to practice, Fang and Lightning were sparring, Vanille and Hope were practicing with heir weapons (Hope throwing his boomerang, aiming at something, and Vanille trying to catch it with her binding rod) and Sazh worked with his son, aiming at targets Dajh was carrying around in the air.
Seeing Fang storm off, Vanille shrugged an apology to Hope, running after the raven haired woman.
"Fang!" Vanille called, holding the word longer than it strictly should've been, as the redhead entered the hose.
"Hey Vanille," she heard Fang's voice from a side room. The redhead hurried through a couple of doors, to see Fang sitting down by the wall, spear resting up against a table.
"You need cheering up," Vanille nodded smartly, giggling as she hopped over to sit next to Fang.
"You noticed," a brief smile touched the older Gran Pulsian's lips. "I'm just sick of this. Just because she apparently knows us doesn't mean she can take command."
"You were enjoying yourself," Vanille sounded half-accusing, "Come on, I know you!"
"Would you know what I meant if I said it brought back memories?"
"Then why'd you stop?"
"Because it was pointless."
"Aw, come on Fangy!" Vanille leant close, nose practically touching the other woman's, "You never used to give up."
"I not giving up, but sparring a human isn't going to help fight a Sylph."
"Right," Vanille nodded, withdrawing, but not before lightly, giggling, giving Fang a kiss on the nose. "So not because you fancy her."
"What?" Fang looked up, suddenly confused
"I read the magazines," Vanille giggled, "They're very interesting,"
"Vanille," Fang sighed, a brief chuckle escaping her lips.
"Ooh!" the redhead squealed, "Made you laugh!"
"Always do," Fang murmured, smiling softly.
"What's that meant to mean?" Vanille pouted, leaning closer again
"Nothing," Fang chuckled
"Good," Vanille giggled, kissing Fang again, before sitting back.
The two sat there, embracing each other, for a few more moments, for once, all thoughts of Sylph and Lightning gone from their minds.
"Bed!" a deeper voice suddenly cried, as their as yet nameless, native Sylph spiralled out of a flash of light.
Fang raised her eyebrows, watching the Sylph pull itself along the floor with its leaves.
"What happened to you?" she remarked
"I suppose I can say," it muttered, "Do you really think you're the only ones resisting the Sylph?"
"Huh?" Vanille chirped, looking down
"This doesn't leave the room, ok?" the Sylph pulled itself up, "There are more ex-l'Cie Sylph out there, mostly from the first Ragnarok's era. I met them the day after the funeral."
"That's…good news," Fang eventually commented, dubious
"It is," the Sylph enthused, "Accept help when you get it, you should know that Fang. They're helping us, they're happy some others are finally helping."
"Others- wait, you told them about us?" Fang snapped back into her angry disposition
"Of course," the Sylph acted like it wasn't a big deal, "they're Sylph, I trust them."
Fang gave it a look that was distinctly unimpressed.
"It's not like that," it protested, "I can just tell, we're all Sylph, we're connected. The voice also gives the game away."
"That still doesn't explain why you're so tired," Vanille chirped, kneeling next to the small ghost creature, lightly patting it on the head
"I was working," it replied, "You've seen how the Sylph warp around, we can only do that over short distances. I spent the last day outside Cocoon, I wanted to see what secret Orphan's Cradle held. I could not be seen by other Sylph however, I could not even enter the shell in the end."
"You wanted to see Orphan's Cradle?" Fang frowned,
"Yeah," it nodded, "But I could not. There were too many Sylph for me to move unseen."
The Sylph straightened, sitting up on the floor.
"Could you give Lightning a message for me?" it said, tense
"What?" Vanille chirruped, stroking the Sylph's quivering leaves
"The Sylph Resistance want to meet you, midday tomorrow."
It vanished in a flash, as Fang moved to stomp on it, annoyed.
"More Sylph, just what we need," she rolled her eyes, slumping back, "More damn Sylph."
"You really hate them," Vanille sighed, "I thought they were cute."
"I guess," Fang muttered to herself, "I don't quite know why I hate them, I just do."
"Remembering?" Vanille tilted her head
"Maybe," the elder Gran Pulsian shrugged, "They're just a real pain. Whoever and whatever they are, they tried to trick us earlier, I don't like it when people lie to me."
"Mm," Vanille nodded, "look on the bright side!"
"And that is?"
"More Sylph tomorrow; maybe we'll see some familiar faces!"
"You think so?"
"I don't know," Vanille giggled, chirping, "We'll find out though."
"I envy you," Fang murmured, quiet, "You never see the sad side."
"I do," Vanille giggled, "I just don't dwell on it like you do, moody."
"Oh, I'm moody now?"
"Yep!"
"So you'd prefer if I just went away?"
"No!" Vanille squealed throwing her arms around Fang, "Saying that's cheating, you know."
"I get a free hug out of it."
"And more," Vanille giggled, kissing Fang's cheek.
"Sounds tempting."
"Not that much more."
"Too bad."
"Can you think of anything else?"
"Why would I want to?" Fang flashed a grin, capturing Vanille's lips.
Fang pressed forwards, hands wandering, fiddling, caressing, removing, touching…
About fifteen minutes later, the two Gran Pulsians left the house, to see everyone still practicing outside. Lightning and Sazh were having some kind of shooting contest, Lightning with the gun on her weapon, and Sazh with his normal guns. Dajh-Sylph and Hope were playing some kind of game, in which Hope would try to hit the Sylph with his boomerang. It didn't go anywhere near Dajh often, but when it did, Dajh protected himself with some kind of magic.
"I've convinced her!" Vanille chirped
"Well done," Lightning nodded a compliment, shooting a target-one created by the Dajh-as she turned away. "Could you please tell me how,? some way to actually control Fang would come in handy."
Fang and Vanille exchanged a glance.
"Trust me, Light," Dajh piped up, ducking under a throw of Hope's boomerang, "You really shouldn't ask," it faced Fang and Vanille, tapping the side of its head, "Sylph had good hearing."
"Should've guessed," Lightning rolled her eyes, "So, ready to restart your training?"
"Nuh-uh," Fang shook her head, "I've said it before, it's useless to duel a human when your target's not a human. Oerban know-how: when hunting gorgonopsids, train on hounds."
"We're hunting the Maker," Lightning shot back, "I don't suppose you have any mini-gods lying around."
"We're hunting the Sylph: you heard what they said, the Maker isn't here yet. The Sylph are our target."
"Right, so we're meant to practice on Sylph?"
"You got it sunshine."
"It might've escaped your attention, but we only have two, and one of them isn't even here."
"Someone call?" the unnamed Sylph popped into existence just in front of Fang. Lightning rolled her eyes.
The raven haired Gran Pulsian looked at it for a moment, before, irritated, lifting a hand and grabbing all three of its leaves, holding them above its head. The Sylph struggled before slumping, annoyed.
"You tell her," Fang said, speaking quietly, slyly, eyes locked on the Sylph.
"Right," the Sylph stopped struggling, before turning to speak, calm, to Lightning. "There are more Sylph like Dajh and I, all ex-l'Cie, who wish to help. They're coming here, to meet you tomorrow."
"It looks like we've found our training partners," Fang muttered grimly.