First off, a bit of slightly bad news. Next week I'll be on holiday and so probably won't be able to write. Sorry!
Anyway, part 2 continues. I couldn't stop smiling as I wrote the end of this chapter, so I hope you enjoy.
It opened its eyes slowly, weak. Last thing it remembered… Light, lots of light, and people moving like a torrential storm. It had, no, he, he was a he, he was sure. He had moved, ran, weaved, hoped. A pale, inhumanely so, face, a smile with lifeless lips, and yet, such a kind smile. And this.
Above him, he could see a roof. A house? A very dark one. He stretched an arm, feeling strange.
"You're awake?" he heard a voice across the room. He sat up, to see a silver haired man sitting next to a wall.
Hope stared across the room, at the bed. The Sylph-was it a Sylph?-lay there, stirring. By rights, he felt as if he should've killed the Sylph, but only until he really saw it. For one, it was no longer controlled by the Maker: its human cry evidenced that. Also, most Sylph should've died, so it shouldn't be here. Curiosity was as good a reason as any. Thirdly, it didn't look quiet normal: instead of three 'leaves', as Sylph normally had, this one had only two. Not to mention, it was slightly longer, taking on more human proportions.
"Where am I?" the Sylph croaked in the voice of a human man.
"Cocoon," Hope murmured, "How did you get here?"
"I ran," the Sylph creature spoke with a strained voice. It wasn't that his voice was distorted or anything, it just sounded, well, wrong coming from the mouth of the non-Sylph body, unsettling. "So far."
"So far?"
"A long way. There were floods coming towards me, I went towards their source. I was a wanderer, that's what I was told by the Guardian, he was at the centre of the stampede. I slipped through the stampede, and came here, a place of death."
"Where were you before?"
"Fields," the Sylph-creature replied simply, "I'm unsure. All I remember is light."
"Fields?" Hope muttered, frowning, "And who's this Guardian?"
"The Guardian was in the light, between the fields and the city of death."
"I might know what happened," Hope leant forwards, cheered by his new discovery, "What was there before you went to the fields?"
"I don't-" the Sylph frowned, "Fire. Too much fire, and something small, pale- I wish I knew what it was called."
"What's your name?"
"I do not know," the man's voice came out of pursed lips, "But I have remembered the name of the creatures. They are Sylph."
"Sylph!" Hope recoiled, "I was right, those fields… You were dead."
"Dead? I…how can that sound so right?" the Sylph wrapped two unnaturally long leaves around itself
"The light between must be the door of souls, and the Guardian…" Hope's eyes widened, "Dad!"
"Your father was the Guardian? In that case, I am in your debt, though I do not fully understand it, the Guardian told me many things. My proximity to those Sylph upon my," he stumbled, "death made me what he called a wanderer. He said there was another wanderer also, whom I never met."
"If you're interested, you're the last Sylph. You must've slipped back through the door before those two," Hope gritted his teeth, "Could block it."
"Sylph?" the creature sounded literally shocked, "How am I Sylph/ I am human! I am-" he paused, looking down at his body. "No…"
"It happened to a lot of people," Hope shrugged. "Wish I could help."
The two sat in silence for a while, the 'Sylph' adopting an almost human pose, his body a rough sketch of a man's, what one might look like if hurriedly made from clay. Hope peered across the darkened room, curious.
"You're sure you can't remember who you are?" Hope insisted
"I'm sure," the Sylph sighed, "Anyone else who can help?"
"Not here," Hope shrugged, "This is Cocoon."
"So?"
"No one else is here," Hope leant forwards, "We're the only ones. I really shouldn't be here, I just am."
"So, if we want help, we're screwed, that what you're saying?" the Sylph suddenly rattled off the vulgar phrase, in contrast to its previous, polite, formal tones.
"Y-yeah," Hope nodded.
"Let us just hope we don't need it," the Sylph slumped, relaxing again in an unsettlingly human fashion. While Hope knew most Sylph had previously been human, it was just disconcerting to see one act so unchanged.
The Sylph gave a wince, the rattling breath that came out of its mouth all too human. Hope's eyes snapped up; "You hurt?"
"Mm," the Sylph didn't seem to want to admit the weakness, he used one leaf to point to the leaf lying by his left, "Arm-thing's killing. Flared up when I tried to roll."
"That's the arm you landed on," Hope noted, walking over to the Sylph; as he approached it, it struck him that the creature's body was also close to human. It was a fair bit taller than the other Sylph, a bit taller than Hope remembered actually, the tips of the arm-leaves were frayed a little, like vestigial fingers.
Ever-gentle, Hope ran a finger softly across the limb, feeling for any irregularities. There was a stubborn irregularity about halfway up the leaf.
"Ever treat a dead guy before?" the Sylph grunted, voice again dissolving from his almost gentlemanly tones, to coarse grunts.
Hope didn't reply, wincing inside as the words brought back painful memories of being just above his father as he died the first time. Halyard Lee Wevos, the gunner, the assassin, and yet even he hadn't come close to the recent pain: the second loss, by the hand of his friends.
"This might hurt," the words came off as little more than a whisper from Hope's lips.
He found it easier to speak the words here; there was little natural light penetrating the thick crystal around them, leaving Cocoon in almost absolute darkness. With the sun setting, it was an effort to see centimetres ahead; let alone the dozen towards the Sylph.
"I know pain," the Sylph replied, "I'll survive."
"Sorry," Hope tensed, pressing the irregularity in the Sylph's arm hard. There was a click and a muffled yowl, before Hope stepped back.
"That was unpleasant," the Sylph remarked mildly, lifting up the still mildly sore joint and waving it through the air, "How did you know that would work?"
"I didn't" Hope admitted, "Figured you wouldn't want to know that. It felt like a dislocation, I tried to fix it."
"Well," the Sylph muttered, "Good job."
A few moments later, Hope heard the Sylph speak again; "Do you mind moving off now? I'm tired and I cannot sleep with you above me."
"Sorry," Hope tensed his shoulders, yawning himself.
Taking extra care to be silent, Hope stepped away from the bed, the outline of the figure vanishing into darkness seconds after.
He tried to curl up and sleep on the sofa, which he found after a few minutes' fumbling. Annoyed, he found he couldn't, it was increasingly cold, and there was some instinct in him that made him want to keep looking over his shoulder, through the almost opaque blackness, keep an eye on the distorted Sylph.
Several minutes later, Hope quietly got up, dragging his feet to find a smooth route along the floor, until he found a rolled up rug by the wall. Apparently the family who'd lived here had salvaged what supplies they could, but not the rug. Not that he blamed them; a rug would probably be pretty useless on Pulse.
Taking the fabric roll beneath his arm, the silver haired man felt his way along the walls, stopping at what felt like a smooth, polished sheet of wood. For what was no doubt one of many, many times he would do so, Hope thanked the Sylph that they'd preserved Cocoon so perfectly. The main issue was food, but he could deal with that later.
The sheet of wood was pulled aside easily, revealing it was in fact the door of a now empty wardrobe. After measuring its length, Hope lay inside it, holding the rug over himself. He drew the door shut, sealing himself, snuggled under the rug, in the small wardrobe, knees bent a little so he could fit.
Hope closed his eyes, feeling more secure in the small space. Silent, he fell into a dreamless sleep.
X
"Fang!" Vanille hopped across the rugged landscape, "Why is death about as tiring as life?" the redhead panted for a moment, before leaping ahead to catch up to the leading, confidently striding raven haired Gran Pulsian.
"Why are you still dressed?" Fangs hot back
"Fang!" Vanille giggled, hopping back, before skipping forward again, "Dajh is watching! He's just a kid, or he was anyway."
"Not what I meant, and you say I'm dirty minded," Fang chuckled, "Your clothes shouldn't have died, why are they here?"
"I dunno," Vanille murmured doubtfully, "With you around, it feels like they've died enough."
"Ha, ha," Fang rolled her eyes, pronouncing the mock-laugh carefully
"We didn't come through properly though did we?" Vanille shrugged,
"Doesn't explain away Dajh."
"Maybe we just come through as we were. I've got a bit of a bruise where Barthendelus shot me."
"You have?" Fang stopped, halting to walk back over to Vanille.
"Where is it?" the elder Gran Pulsian whispered, comforting
"Here," Vanille replied, just as quiet, playing with the right of her pink top.
Tender, Fang pulled the fabric down. A pale darkening of the skin was visible over her breast, a patch about a finger's length across. Fang bent forwards to lightly kiss it, withdrawing as she heard a shout from Dajh.
"You two at it again?" his tone was light-hearted
"Any better ideas?" Fang shouted back, Fang's finger lightly brushing over a sensitive part of Vanille, as the elder Gran Pulsian pulled the top back up. "We've been walking in circles for hours!"
"We're finding the wanderer," Cid spoke, catching up to them although his pace didn't appear hurried, "While we may not know where it is, we must still look."
"So we are going in circles?" Fang frowned, "You do know I was just kidding about that?"
"Not circles," Bartholomew caught up with them, "We're heading to where the capital should be, plenty of Sylph would've died there."
"Yeah, great," Fang threw her arms up in the air, "Just what we need!"
"The Sylph are no longer such creatures," Cid interjected, "They will appear as human as us, and may know useful information."
"As human as you?" Vanille squeaked, "You were half-Cie'th before!"
"Not any more," Cid coolly responded. "Let us hope the Maker has retreated far enough into death so that Her influence no longer holds sway."
"Is she really that powerful?" Bartholomew queried, beginning to lead the group over the fields.
"You wouldn't believe it," Dajh shivered, "You were never a proper Sylph. It took complete concentration all the time to not give in, She isn't so much powerful as persuasive."
"Mm," Cid echoed, "Temptation is Her greatest weapon. I don't doubt, had I lived much more, I too would have given in."
"I'm glad we don't have to deal with her," Vanille giggled, before pausing mid-hop, "Will we?"
"Nah," Fang shook her head, "We're trying to come back to life, that's enough hassle."
"We shouldn't," Dajh smiled at Fang's flippant response, "Apart from persuasive, the Maker is also patient. It'll be centuries before she tries anything again, she went five hundred years on the brink after all."
"I hope so," Fang shrugged.
They fell into a haunted silence. Bartholomew, the one with a specific aim in his head, lead them onwards, past the eerily desolate land. They'd expected the land of death to be full of people, but instead it seemed like everyone had gone 'on', to whatever was truly in death.
Behind Hope's father, Dajh and Cid walked side by side. They'd shared a mind, and had both gone through life as a Sylph. Both knew, no one else would understand how it felt to have your thoughts thrown open so freely, to have a seductive voice calling their names, much less how it felt to be completely unable to control their own, and yet not their own, body. The subconsciously relied upon each other, they understood each other.
Hanging back, Fang and Vanille moved along. Fang strode with easy, confident steps, her hand swinging as it remained clasped with Vanille, who was hopping and jumping from every bit of elevated land. The redhead was laughing, enjoying herself despite the near-hopelessness of their situation.
"You…you think Hope will forgive us?" Vanille squeaked quietly to Fang
"I," Fang began, pausing, before finally responding, "I dunno. Poor kid."
"He's not a kid any more," Vanille wagged a finger, giggling.
"I know," Fang shrugged, "Hard to think of him as otherwise though."
"Maybe, if we can get back, we can bring his dad!" Vanille bounced
"Talking about me?" Bartholomew shouted, before slowing his pace to reach them
"She thinks you should come with us, if we get alive again," Fang replied
"No," the man shook his head, "It's a long shot, even if we could I wouldn't go back."
"Huh?" Vanille tilted her head
"I've lost my life twice, I've no desire to do it again. My son needs to move on, if I did anything else it would just be selfish."
"Don't think he'll forgive us a third time," Vanille sighed
"Huh?" Bartholomew frowned
"We killed you, remember?" the redhead giggled in spite of the morbid words, "I was there when his mother died, and we lost our parents too."
"He'll forgive you," Bartholomew shook his head, "He's just a bit overwhelmed right now."
"You didn't see his face," Vanille murmured quietly, unheard, to herself, as they moved back into their walking formation, heading towards where they assumed flocks of ex-Sylph would now be.
Once more, the group descended into quiet. They'd long since left Vallis Media, or whatever the name of the equivalent was, and instead were making their way across the top of the valley.
Oddly, the only two who were becoming gradually tired out by the long haul were Fang and Vanille, but being used to the rigorous demands of Gran Pulse, they could easily bear it. The others of the group, having died 'properly', found they weren't worn out, until they started to think about it.
Apart from the Adamantoise when they'd arrived, they hadn't encountered much wildlife. It wasn't totally surprising: not much would have died in the vicinity of Vallis Media, so not much would be near them. It was still a little unsettling though; they felt as if, at any moment, something would jump out at them. Gran Pulse was never this deserted; even in the modern, industrialized cities, people rarely strayed outside without armoured vehicles or guards. The Guardian Corps were called out almost daily with a new report of a monster attack on some city.
"You know what's gonna be really fun?" Dajh chuckled, remembering something
"I can think of a few things," Fang winked at Vanille, who giggled
"It's back in the real world, well, the living world."
"What?" Vanille squeaked, tilting her head
"I saw Light and the rest running through the cities, and when I picked them up. People had recognized them; just outside the shop where I got them, there was a crowd at the window."
"Seriously?" Vanille gasped
"Yeah, and what's more," Dajh continued, "You know why Light always wore that hood everywhere? She hated the attention, she was all to keen to go to crystal stasis first time round, and never took the hood off the rest of the time. Hated the attention, she felt like she should earn it, and now she's stuck in the spotlight."
"Isn't that a little cruel?" Cid joined the conversation, cheeks tense in an effort not to smile, though his voice didn't betray it
"You didn't hear her complaining," Dajh replied
"Actually I did. Sylph too, remember?"
"Yeah," Dajh nodded slowly, before picking up again, "You've got to admit, she was a little excessive. The hood wasn't necessary, everyone else went by without it."
"Kind of necessary," Fang commented, "If she got recognized without it."
"Suppose so," Dajh shrugged, "But still, there's nothing wrong with being recognized."
"You had nothing to worry about," Cid interjected, "You were ten, no one would recognize you now."
"True," Dajh chuckled.
Their conversation was interrupted by a distant chirrup. Dajh's eyes widened, ears taking in the familiar noise. He span around quickly, to see a tall yellow bird barrelling towards him. With a 'Kweh', it stopped just in front of him, rubbing its warm, feathered neck on Dajh's front in the bird-equivalent of a hug.
"Choco," Dajh gasped, grinning, running his hand down its long neck, petting it. "You'd never leave us, huh?"
It responded with another Kweh.
Quietly watching the reunion, Vanille formed a square with her fingers, in an old Gran Pulsian prayer, smiling. It was somehow comforting, she had the feeling someone was helping them. Cid had received an Eidolon, despite being a Sylph, and now Choco had found them again: it felt as if Etro Herself was aiding them. Not that it was surprising: if Etro was the Goddess of the door of souls, how must it have felt to have the Maker trying to pull through?
"Thank you," the redhead whispered, almost silent, before looking back up at Dajh.
Dajh cooed, straightening and brushing the muddied, ruffled feathers of the bird. He whispered soothing words to the chocobo, amazed to see his old friend.
"Hey, Vanille!" Fang called, hooking her arm in the redhead's, "I just remembered something."
"What now?" Vanille giggled
"You promised something."
"When was this?" she tilted her head, amused
"Just before we forgot."
"The wedding?"
"Yeah."
"What I promise?"
"You don't remember?" Fang frowned
"I remember something," Vanille giggled, "Don't know if it's what you're thinking of."
"Well what is it?"
"Nuh-uh, you first!"
"I asked it the first time,"
"Yep," Vanille nodded eagerly
"So you know what it is?"
"Maybe."
"You just want me to say it again, huh?"
"Yep," the redhead giggled
"I'm not gonna then." Fang folded her arms.
"Huh?" Vanille blinked. She hopped on the spot, waving her arm madly in front of the non-responsive Fang. The elder Gran Pulsian bit back a smile that threatened to curl her lips.
Pouting, Vanille stomped away, sideways so as not to disturb the emotional Dajh. Then, smiling, she bounced around the slightly open field, until she was behind Fang, and jumped towards the raven haired woman, throwing her arms around her neck.
Fang jumped at the sudden contact, before chuckling, seeing Vanille's face peer over her shoulder.
"Gonna say it yet?" Fang muttered, smiling
"Maybe," the redhead bounced away, giggling.
A few moments later, Vanille hopped in front of Fang, tilting her head,
"Fang," Vanille drew out the word into a cute query
"Yeah?"
"You really not going to say it?"
"I want you to say it this time."
"And you're not going to change your mind?"
"You'll see,"
"Fang…" Vanille pouted.
She paused
"When this is all over," Vanille continued, before seemingly tripping up.
Fang reached down with one arm, to help the redhead up. With a graceful motion and a smile, Vanille took Fang's hand, but instead of standing, she just raised her head.
"Will you marry me?" Vanille tilted her head, finishing off the proposal with a shy giggle
"Of course," Fang replied, "Please tell me you didn't doubt that," she finished, before pulling Vanille into a passionate, meaningful kiss.
