"Throw that thing out," Chuami complained. "Yuna tossed it in the trash for a reason."
"I can fix it," Kurgum insisted again. "Wakka's child might want it. Or Marphie. She likes these things, I heard."
"Ancient garbage is still garbage," Chuami protested.
"It's not that old," Kurgum replied. "It can't be. Look at it."
"It's garbage," Chuami repeated.
"It's just a toy, see?" Kurgum held out the thing to Chuami to look at the few repairs he had done with pins.
She could see that it had once been a stuffed doll. Now headless and one arm missing it's stuffing, the colors faded to that of cold dust—it had once been a Guado Glories doll, loved too much and for too long, eventually abandoned to the elements.
"Who would take a child there?" Chuami asked. "Get rid of it before it gives you rabies or something."
She kept staring at it, trying to figure out its purpose so she could toss it back to where it was supposed to be. She knew Kurgum was only trying to patch it up to ignore what was going on outside.
A thick, dense fog had blanketed Spira. Piloting the Celsius had become a dangerous and slow task, but they refused to land, given their new 'guest'.
Seymour wasn't surprised his scream had attracted attention. Whose attention was a surprise, however. Yuna had a mechanical weapon aimed at his head the second she came through the door and was quick to add another. Seymour noticed a heavily armed friend of hers was also ready to use her large sword on him. He didn't need to know what it was or how it worked; he recognized a death threat when he saw it.
"Ah, this seems rather familiar," he commented, ignoring Yuna's friends.
"Talk!" Yuna demanded. "Or else!"
"Last time I talked you slit my throat," Seymour commented. "And I'm daily certain you've already done 'else'."
"Yuna, put that away," Paine said. "Is he always like this?"
"Yes," Rikku commented. "You're in trouble!"
"At least I'm consistent," Seymour said, shrugging.
"Do you have any idea what's going on?" Yuna asked.
"I appear to have been kidnapped," he answered bluntly.
"What's the last thing you remember?" Paine asked. "Before you woke up here."
"I was being eaten alive by lizards," he replied.
"Before that."
"I was dead. And before that, Yuna was the one responsible."
"How can you not know what's going on?" Yuna protested. This was not how things were supposed to go with him.
"Not having a clue where I am would explain most of that," he retorted. "Being eaten alive would explain the rest."
"Something happened to Guadosalam!" Yuna chided him.
"I wasn't there," he said calmly, shaking his head.
"The farplane is all messed up!" she continued.
"It was like that when I got there," he answered. "Feel free to interrogate someone else on that matter."
"Sin is back," was her final accusation. Everything else had been heated, meant to burn, while this was cold, aiming for the heart.
And it missed. "That tends to happen, yes," he replied. "I'd offer you a hand, but I don't seem to have one to spare," he said smugly as he held up the mechanical limb, barely wanting to touch it.
"Let me see that," Rikku said, grabbing his limp, mechanical hand. "Oh, this needs to be tightened."
Seymour hissed inwardly as his arm was yanked toward his accusers. It was bad enough he had it stuck to him in the first place; he didn't want anyone else touching the filthy thing.
"No." Yuna stated. Her words were cold again, but the harshness had vanished. The sheer winds had vanished, leaving only gently falling snow. "No. Sin wasn't supposed to come back. We killed it. We killed you and then we destroyed Sin. We brought an end to Yu Yevon. It was supposed to be an Eternal Calm. The Fayth aren't asleep anymore and the aeons are gone!" Her words were just fluttering snow. Sad, sad snow.
Rikku dropped his arm as the other two girls looked at Yuna. Yuna had freed herself from a life where the most glorious and selfless act was a death sentence and had enjoyed two years of happiness, finally able to choose everything in her path so she could be a hero of hope and glee, only to return to the age of despair and martyrs.
Seymour, however, was unmoved. He'd learned long ago other people's tears shouldn't concern him unless he wanted them to.
"Well, this was pointless," Paine scoffed.
"I agree, miss… do I know you?" Seymour asked. He had no idea where he was, who he was talking to, or what was going on. And he was asked to… he also didn't quite know that. He hoped this wasn't going to last.
"Paine," she introduced herself.
"Appropriate," he commented.
"Do you remember me?" Rikku chirped, eager for recognition. "Umm…" She realized her choices were 'I was the one eating your food' or 'I was the one who was throwing grenades'. "I guess not."
"This doesn't come off, does it?" he asked, holding his mechanical hand away from himself.
"It's bolted on," she explained.
"Mmmh," he muttered in response. Flesh met metal. Living muscle spoke to something cold and dead. Someone who had once mocked death stared at something that mocked life, and the irony was not lost on him.
"Come on, Yunie. We'll figure something out," Rikku said, tugging on her cousin's arms. In truth, she didn't like the look Seymour was giving his replacement appendage. She didn't want him getting ideas, especially dark ones, and she felt the best solution was for him to figure it out on his own.
"Look, we have more important things to do," Paine said, putting her hand on Yuna's shoulder as a gesture to leave. "The door's going to be unlocked unless you start trouble. You're not stupid enough to break anything important while several hundred feet up in the air." Paine may not have met him personally, but she had heard stories, lived through the disasters he had caused, and seen him in spheres. He didn't take 'Don't be stupid' as a challenge, he took 'don't get in our way' as one. If he was going to be helpful, he'd do it if he saw an advantage; if he was going to give them any information, he was going to boast about it. It was better to tempt him to do those things and than hinting that prying the floor panels loose was a better one.
"Mmh," was all he responded with, still fixated yet fearful of his own hand and what had become of it.