"I've met your father," Seymour said. "I didn't know he had a son at the time. I would have asked."

"You met him?" Tidus asked.

"He came to the temple to wait out a storm before he was arrested," Seymour said. "That was before he started his pilgrimage and I had just started mine."

"What was he like?" Tidus asked. He didn't really trust Seymour, but the man was speaking completely differently than usual, it was as if Seymour were talking to a child or a pet; someone harmless and innocent-something that likely wouldn't understand or was incapable of asking questions beyond 'and then what?'

"Loud," Seymour said, testing the conversational waters. He had run into problems insulting his own parents, who knew what trouble he'd get into insulting someone else's? "A drunken braggart and when he broke things. I had to clean it up," Seymour finished, seeing if Tidus was about to get violent over his father's indiscretions.

Tidus was quiet for a moment, slowing as he tugged Seymour along. The song had begun to repeat. "You're lying, aren't you?" There was no way Seymour of all people was going to agree about how badly his dad treated him.

"Of course I'm lying," Seymour said proudly, his smirk and smugness returning. "It's what I do."

"Why are you listening to this guy in the first place?" a familiar voice asked, speaking above the rest and managing to be heard through the song.

"Auron?" Tidus called out.

"Exactly where am I going to go?" Seymour asked, gesturing to the darkness. So much for thinking his babysitter had gotten any smarter.

"Don't move and don't touch anything!" Tidus commanded, letting go of Seymour's hand and waiting a full second before running off to find after the source of Auron's voice.

"What is there to even touch?" Seymour muttered to himself. He wanted to just enjoy both the silence and the calm of no longer being patronized or accused of anything, but he knew that wouldn't last.

The voices grew louder, more distinct, drowning out the song.

'Hey, Barro, get a load of this ugly kid! Just imagine the broad that thing must have come out of!' he heard behind him. He hated this memory. It always came back to him when he thought he was safe, even just for a moment. Something struck him from behind. The memory was turning real. He wasn't safe at all this time.

He spun around, snarling, only to see darkness ahead.

'Screw Yevon, why do we have to take care of a mutant?'

'Why do you keep that freak around the temple?'

'I broke yer stupid relic? Eh, ugly over there will clean it up. At least he's good for something.'

He took a step back, tripping as something in the darkness grabbed at his feet. The voices were screaming. The darkness was closing in, feeling tight around him. He could feel blood flowing down his neck from his wound.

'Call the clergy; they'll get rid of it!'

'Is he sick?'

'Yeah, I heard of those things, but that doesn't look right.'

'Hit it again, maybe this time it'll do something.'

'Nah, there's something wrong with it'

'Don't touch it'

He could hear rustling in the darkness beyond the voices. He could see eyes, bright and shining with hunger, all staring at him.

Everything was spinning. He couldn't catch his breath for some reason. The voices were getting closer. The things were getting closer.

Something hit him again, this time larger and heavier. He raised his hand in front of his face against an onslaught that would be coming.

He didn't want to face it then and he didn't want to face it now.

Something grabbed his arm.

"Seymour?"