The World That Never Will Be ch29
by the infamous and notorious tocasia
1/23/2021
CHAPTER 29
be of love (a little) more careful
than of everything
guard her perhaps only
A trifle less (merely beyond how very)
closely than nothing
remember love by frequent
anguish (imagine
her least never with most
memory)
give entirely each
forever its freedom
(dare until a flower,
understanding ceaselessly sunlight
open what thousandth why and
discover laughing)
– e. e. cummings, be of love (a little)
Master Aqua's lips were soft. A little dry, a little chapped where she chewed in worry. She was so very real. Inexperienced but not unsure.
So, he kissed her back, also soft, with the pressure of assent and acceptance, discarding all brutal arrogance that in the past would have been expected of him.
Sephiroth flew them back to camp like he'd flown them out of darkness.
...he'd asked, this time, before lifting her up into a carry, and she'd said yes... with a mischievous eagerness that would require careful clarification later.
Aqua touched her lips.
True love's first kiss.
Yeah, that'd wake anybody up.
...true love's second kiss was probably even better.
Sephiroth waited.
Master Aqua had claimed the shower on arrival.
She'd been in there for a while. Soaking in the tub maybe, sore from all the fighting.
Her shoulders might be sunburned, her cheeks too, a redness to hide her blush and make her eyes even bluer.
Sephiroth remembered satisfied exhaustion on the field, and afterwards, the cleansing rebirth, scrubbed raw until the blood was gone, then dreamless sleep, appetite sun-stolen until morning, and then to do it again. Days of life lived and taken, of exaltation and pain, sampling the best of humanity's glorified suffering.
Was it the same, for her, against the heartless?
Brave Master Aqua.
He hoped she wasn't hurting. He didn't have any aloe or lotion for her, no comfort on hand to soothe the aches she'd deny.
...his concern was ridiculous. She could heal herself with magic.
...or he could offer to. If he saw the slightest scratch or bruise or peel of skin, he would.
She was... touch without hurt, and remembering gentleness more tender than his plans of friendship would usually allow.
He liked holding her heart next to his.
Sephiroth decided that, yes, he did want more of her kisses.
Aqua lay back in citrus steam...
staying a moment in warm contact
the touch of not-loneliness
closed her eyes to drag it out
leaned into rise and fall and breath and strength
she smiled as he held her, allowing longer and unashamed
wishing he would kiss her smile...
He should have made a couch. Something larger than a chair, but less intimate than a bed.
Sephiroth wondered what her thoughts of him were, and what would come next. How best to respond to her attentions? What would he permit, with her? What did she expect?
Laid at his feet was a future too easy for him to manipulate, for joy or ruination, and unopposed. He must be careful. But not too passive, either, because she loved his confidence...
His worries were harmlessly deferred when, fresh from the shower, with towel-tussled hair, Aqua excused herself as too tired for anything else.
He... supposed that was fair.
"Sleep well, Master Aqua."
Sephiroth settled in to keep watch, his calming duty. Everything in its proper place, quiet. Deep night outside.
The elemental gems and crystals, their glistening spoils of war, were arrayed on the table, reflections twinned by the surface of the glass.
He guessed what she would do with them, and smiled, and swore himself to secrecy.
Aqua awoke, full of verve and purpose, not sore, with a spring in her step, to a morning worthy of sing-a-long sparrows.
Sephiroth was leaning over an open book on the table. His hair was wet, and smelled the same as hers.
"What are you doing?" Aqua asked.
"Improvising," Sephiroth said, tapping the pages, "Our choices for breakfast are rather limited. Do you like honey?"
"Sure. Thanks."
"Good." A curt nod and he returned laser-like focus to the illustrations.
He declined her offer to help, so Aqua scooped yesterday's hard-won treasures into her sleeves. "I'm going to work on your present. I'll be in the valley with the crystals, so no peeking."
"Alright. I'll take care of this."
"Sephiroth?"
He looked up from his reading. "Hmm?"
"Can I kiss you again?"
He said yes, so she did.
Aqua went to the crystal fissure. The path hadn't changed.
The process wouldn't be the same as what she'd done with hers and Terra's and Ven's charms. In the Land of Departure, she'd had jeweler's tools, and stained glass, and encyclopedia drawings of traditional thalassa shell patterns believed to symbolize the mythical paopu fruit. To make all three wayfinders had taken her days.
Aqua looked around. Now she had...
Rocks, and grass. Her reflection in the crystals. Plenty of sand beneath her feet and... approximately an afternoon.
But that was okay. For some types of magic, the idea of a thing was more important than its materials.
The sun shone bright on her workspace: a patch of sand she'd swept flat and sifted clear of stones and tangled roots, flecked with gray and blue gravel and tiny pieces of mica. She'd made a spiral off to the side with the relocated pebbles.
The spell she was about to cast was an old, old magic. Simple, but for the embellishment she gave it. Simple and clean.
First, to make the material base. Aqua visualized the construction.
It must be in the shape of a five-pointed star. She'd use her own charm for reference.
Rock would become glass in appearance, in truth, much harder to break. Joined with grass-become-metal, to emulate copper foil or lead solder between panes. She could draft a chain, too, silvery, with fine links that wouldn't pinch.
Aqua picked a good-sized rock that looked like it would fracture along appropriate lines and hefted it to her chosen spot.
She invoked ice, freezing and refreezing, quiet and sharp cracks, until she had five matching shards she could arrange in a star.
'Wedges' might be a better word than 'shards'. Not such a spiky angle.
The leftover rock chips cut a blue chalky streak on the gray of her gloves. She wiped her hands on her half-skirt sash, and the dust didn't show.
Aqua began collecting long bladed stems of grass, choosing the most malleable fibers, avoiding other thorned and sticky plants. Sweet-smelling green, of earth pure and uncorrupted.
She'd use the serenity stones, lightning gems, and the power and bright crystals nearer the end, to fuel the spell and make it strong.
Let's see... what else?
Yesterday, she'd been sneaky. She'd caught one of Sephiroth's falling feathers, but it had dissolved into darkness in her hand.
...that would've been weird, anyway. Creepy. Like using someone's hair or toenails for a curse. He wouldn't appreciate such intrusive magic.
Friendship should be built on honesty and respect.
...Sephiroth was always respectful. He used her title almost all the time. And yet it wasn't stiff, or cold, not anymore. It was just part of her name. 'Master' was who she was.
...he had never doubted her rank.
Aqua wondered. Sephiroth almost certainly had a title of his own. What was it? Why didn't he use it?
He was beautiful; she couldn't imagine him disgraced. He looked like people wanted their statues to look.
She'd say he had the body of a god, but that was apparently literal, and the only other god she'd personally met was Hades, who looked like a sack of potatoes.
Sephiroth wasn't obnoxious, or rude, or slimy and sexist, and he didn't smoke, and he didn't demand to be called 'your godliness' or something, which was nice, actually, so maybe their current arrangement with the titles was okay.
Aqua kicked herself for thinking about Hades at all. Yuck.
Anyway.
It was fun to make things.
Next, the grass, to tie the pieces together. She'd do knotted twists between the rock wedges and around the outside edge. For the chain, a sturdy five-strand braid.
Aqua measured against her charm, estimating the required length of the fibers.
...she went to pull more grass.
A lot of braiding later...
What she had... could be described as an optimist's attempt at rustic.
Relax, Aqua. The spell would take care of it. Crude would become beautiful in the shaping.
She worked the elaborate knots at the star's points, humming sometimes the song about nightingales and other times experimental tunelessness.
The magic of the heart was of remembrance.
Sephiroth...
Trusted, trusting, protected, protecting. She'd found many allies on her journeys, and fought alongside them, but this felt right in a way none of them had.
...was her gift too childish? Was she too old for friendship charms? Terra and Ven... hadn't exactly been impressed.
She should give Sephiroth something more alluring. Ha! Like what, flowers? The flowers on the ridge were gone; it didn't seem like a coincidence. He must not like flowers. Maybe she should explain that the pattern on the wayfinder wasn't a flower...?
No, she wasn't going to start with an apology.
Aqua hated the darkness for making her feel so utterly inadequate.
...part of her hatred seeped into the spell, and at first she stumbled, but with effort nudged the energy back on course. Hatred of the darkness was something they shared. It could fit.
Aqua arranged the lightning gems within her prepared allotment. Topaz diamond-cut points sunk to uniform depth, a tabled tessellation, an insulating pedestal. She placed her rock-and-grass model on top.
She should start from the middle and work her way out, radiating, to minimize warping.
A jolt from Master's Defender aimed lightning's path along the fiber, galvanized, molten magic. For the chain, too. Supple stems undone into metal, quicksilvered according to her will.
Imperfections in symmetry vanished, fixing the new wayfinder's star shape indelibly in microcrystalline array.
A short period of cooling, just in case. She wasn't finished yet.
Fire, to flatten and polish the center where the wing insignia should go. A slow heat to fuse; she didn't need an explosion. Aqua reveled in the necessary control. The rock's impurities burned away, the fumes evinced clear smoke. It smelled like amber incense.
Now sure of the size of her canvas, Aqua practiced the wing design in the sand with a stylus of straw until it was right.
Lips thin in concentration, she copied it onto the raw sculpture and blew the dust from the lines.
Almost done.
Aqua invoked her heart's Sanctuary, inscribing in light a seamless runic circle to shelter secure.
Rainbow powder from serenity stones, to enliven the soon-to-be not-glass, to match the color of his heart. Aqua wondered what color his would turn out to be, and if it would be like his eyes.
She held the bright and power crystals aloft. A combination of gravity and magnet spells sent them spinning around Master's Defender. Not so much extracting as becoming. Floating centrifuge, mixing liquid magic, to pour into the crucible of the circle she had drawn. An even, level inundation, flawless layered laminate order, to not disturb the glaze.
The crystal essence was absorbed fast; her rock-and-grass effigy was a good one.
...and then, a final tap of her keyblade, to unlock its potential.
The sealing of the spell was blinding, and she had to cover her face.
In the middle of the circle, those glyphs already blowing away in an etheric breeze, the new wayfinder sparkled. It drank the heat of her touch for its own, until equilibrium. The black glass enamel-smooth, the silver metal wing perfectly grafted. It was safety.
A memento of her rescue, of their friendship, and everything he was to her.
She'd gotten it right, first try!
...an unbreakable connection...
She found him easily. In their spot, where the sunrise was best.
Sephiroth greeted her, "You're back."
"Yep," Aqua said.
Darkness clung to his shoulder, there and yet not there. Of and not of, containing and contained. River of night, flowing into itself. The icy and black kind of river, that stole thoughts and breaths away.
Oh, what was she thinking? It was only a wing, and he was using magic, using the darkness, to heal it somehow.
...she should probably scold him for that.
...she wasn't going to.
"You're staring, Master Aqua. Not that I mind."
"So what if I am?"
Sephiroth raised an interested eyebrow. "I brought breakfast."
Aqua noticed the picnic basket next to him. It was wooden, woven, with a red-and-white-checkered cloth. "Thanks."
He elucidated, "I may have helped a rabbit with a tiger problem, and/or pinned the tail on a melancholy donkey."
After a bit, he added, "There were no casualties."
"..."
Aqua inspected the contents. "I've... never dipped carrots in honey before."
Crunch.
"Nope," Aqua decided, "Not doing that again." Carrots in honey were way better cooked, but she didn't know how. You were supposed to roast them, right?
"I... hadn't expected you to in the first place."
"...you're laughing at me," Aqua accused.
"Yes." Sephiroth genteelly stopped coughing into his elbow.
...deeper in the basket, there was bread for the honey. She just hadn't seen it. But...
"I'll get you back someday."
"Oh?"
"I'll kiss you again."
"How is that revenge?"
"You might get honey in your hair."
Sephiroth appeared thoughtful, "A dire threat, indeed." He blanched with relished melodrama.
Aqua let her roguish, teasing grin dissipate. "Anyway, I made you this."
Sephiroth spoke in an awed whisper, "So, you did make one for me."
The absolute wonder with which he looked at the black wayfinder, and back to her. How gently he held it, as if he knew he held her heart in his hand. The wash of honorable gratitude, a hero's recognition, like she dreamed of one day receiving herself, mirrored, that emotion permeating the air. Spirit of righteous thankfulness, heroism made true.
But it was just a friendship charm, wasn't it? Not... some greater pact.
It terrified her, the rightness of it. She would give him anything.
He blinked and she was freed from the worst of the captivation, and once more it was only the satisfaction of having given someone something nice.
Sephiroth traced the wing pattern with his finger. "Purity and knowledge. The mark of one who has risen above the lesser. Freedom, ascendancy, and great power. A good choice, Master Aqua."
"Do you like it?"
"It's beautiful." His smile was radiant, angelic. "One of the finest honors I have received."
He put it around his neck and shook out his hair so the chain would lie underneath his high collar. The metal against his bare chest, above the cross straps... was it cold? Or was it warm, from her hands?
"Thank you."
She beamed with the pride she knew he loved so much.