- - -
"Hold still," she ordered, faking irritation.
Wakka grumbled, put held his back as straight as he could, with his head as level as he could.
"Good," Lulu told him. She wrapped an old blanket around his bare shoulders, and took up an old pair of scissors. She had just dunked his head in a shallow dish of water, massaging in the remainders of her soaps.
At another time, Wakka might have protested against playing beauty parlor. However, it was something to occupy their time while they sat and worried. How strong was the storm—how close would it come to Besaid? Should they go to the temple after all? What would happen?
"It's time to get rid of this spike," announced Lulu proudly. She added confidence to her voice to make up for what lacked on the inside. She hadn't minded Wakka's hair too much, honestly; it was something she had grown accustomed to, since he'd adopted the ridiculous style some years before.
As Wakka heard the rapid snips begin overhead, he closed his eyes to escape the falling scraps of orange, suddenly doubting his lover's artistic skill. In a way, his hair didn't mean anything to him, not if it meant Lulu's happiness and their shared distraction. Yet, somehow, it was letting go of part of the past, of more foolish times. But he was older now—twenty-seven—and perhaps he couldn't cling to his locks any longer.
It didn't take long to take a small scythe to the man's extensive waves of grain, but Lulu spent the better part of an hour circling him, combing this strand and trimming that. She wanted it to be perfect.
"Hey, why's this such a big deal?" wondered Wakka, squinting as her scissors passed over his eyes for the twentieth time.
"Your hair has to be perfect for our wedding—weren't we talking about this before?" She sounded irritated again; annoyed as though he were her student and she was an upset tutor.
"Aw, it'll grow out by then," he said.
Lulu wondered if these lines were fed to them by their worrying consciences, if the two of them were acting in a play. Neither of the people knew for sure there would be a wedding—much less a tomorrow. So they spoke such optimistic comments in order to try and keep up the brave front, the comforting front, so they didn't have to delve into the matters that truly occupied their minds.
Lulu delivered her next line expertly. "Well, then I'll just have to cut it again!" she cried out, as if she were a blushing bride who got overly excited about the most trivial of things.
"You done yet?"
"Yes, yes, hold on a sec…" She did a quick comb-through and removed the sheet. "Okay." She stood back, and looked at him. His hair had that shaggy quality, but she commended herself for a job well done. The last time she had cut hair must have been ten years ago, when she used to do the job for the younger Yuna and Chappu every few months.
"How I look?" he wondered.
"How do you look, it is—and I would say very mature. For once, Wakka." She stepped over to him, wrapping her arms around his warm body. It was a transparent effort to conceal her sudden weakness.
"Let's sit down…ya?" Wakka was saying, but the wind swelled up suddenly and the whole hut trembled loudly in protest. Biting his lip, the man guided Lulu over to the bed anyway, pulling her across so that her back was against the wall and her legs went straight out on the mattress top. He sat cross-legged perpendicular to the woman.
There was a pause in the weather before the sky opened up, sending an army of angry pellets of water from the clouds straight to the earth and all that had sprung from it. The house was definitely a target, the rain thundering down endlessly in booming assaults.
"Wakka…?" Lulu asked faintly, but Wakka was smart enough to read his own name on her lips.
"This house," he replied loudly in order to be understood, "was built by my father many years ago, and it's survived Sin a dozen times." His accent was strengthened by his conviction, even though Lulu had been tutoring him to speak in a more educated manner for quite some time.
Lulu didn't mind the absence of a clear 'th' sound this time. She saw the true courage in Wakka's face, and that was enough insurance for her. Here, in this house, close together…here, she would be safe. No matter what.
She reached out her hand to him, and he cradled it above his lap, stroking her fingers half absentmindedly, half intently. It was obvious his brain was wandering around, but Wakka's crystal clear eyes lay focused on his love's face.
"We cannot talk very well, can we?" Lulu shouted over the noise. She wasn't much for shouting.
"Ya," he replied, and a big grin spread across his face. He had a good idea. He pulled himself closer to Lulu, whispered into her ear, and immediately began to massage her body with his hands slowly and strongly, all the while moving his lips across her face.
Lulu surrendered herself just as quickly to his touch, sensing with a tinge of pain that Wakka had to be a bit forceful with himself in order to be so casual like this. He pushed doubly hard as he pulled his hands down her arms, overcompensating for the hesitation. She chose to ignore it and respond to him normally, fighting to control his mouth with her lips and attempting to restrain his neck with her hands.
It was a little game they played, and he would always try to wrench his face away in order to kiss her ear, or neck, or whatever else he pleased. Lulu would always end up giggling at some point, because their struggle became so ridiculous. In normal circumstances, the two might have tumbled over each other—even off the bed. But now they improvised, and the best they could manage was to lay parallel, Wakka almost on top but not quite.
Lulu caught herself thinking about how great it would be when they could play again, with no barrier to stop Wakka from being right up against her (nowadays, even a normal hug was impossible). She was even going to say something about it, but she stopped, stopped moving and everything. There probably will not be such a time, Lulu…
She wondered when she had resigned herself to die.
Wakka looked at her, opened his mouth when a huge clap of thunder silenced him, and something suddenly rammed up against one of the windows. It sounded like a huge piece of debris—possibly a chunk of a less stable house.
Wakka launched himself to his feet, like he might actually go outside and check to see what it was, but Lulu gave a start.
"Idiot! What the hell do you think you're doing?" she growled angrily. "Going out there?"
Wakka backed off, tail between his legs, looking very much like a kicked puppy. Lulu realized how cruel she had just been, but she couldn't come up with an apology good enough for him. Frozen, the two stared at each other with slightly shocked, slightly helpless expressions.
"This is hopeless," the woman said to herself, and she let her eyes slip to the ground. But then, there was this strange tightening feeling in her stomach… It was strange, but her blood ran cold to think what it could be.
The feeling passed, and she tried to forget it.
"Something wrong?"
"Wakka…" She reached up until he took both her hands. She pulled him so he bent over and put his face right near hers until they kissed. All she could think was, Today might be the last day… The last day of my life, the last day I am with him…
Wakka was grinning, his mouth still tingling with the afterglow of the affection. "Ya, I'm sorry," he told her. "I wouldn't really go outside, ya know?"
Lulu leaned on his shoulder, trying to imbed herself in his protected aura… At least he was safe from most of the worries and regrets that filled her heart. She wanted to feel that way for a moment, too.
It wasn't a condescending thing to think, was it? That Wakka had less troubles than she? Maybe she was being a fool… She had plenty of troubles locked inside, so everyone else must, too… But hers were the most pressing at the moment. It couldn't be helped. She might… She might…
Wakka just kept grinning at her. He ruffled her hair lovingly.
Lulu had had a problem she couldn't quite explain. She was queasy, and in an ill temperament—worse than usual. She couldn't put her finger on the problem, but maybe that was because she could not admit it to herself, not just yet.
Life had been going more or less smoothly. Lulu and Yuna had been keeping themselves a safe distance apart, usually avoiding each other completely. A similar situation had arisen with Wakka, but for a completely different reason.
Lulu had never been one to blush, stutter, or loose her absolute composure. Especially not over a man. Not even Chappu had been able to conjure up any outward sign of embarrassment from his cool-minded girlfriend. Now, however, even when she merely thought of Wakka, Lulu became flustered, which sparked anger within.
And that Wakka…he could be such a stammering idiot anyway, it made the two of them made a rather pitiful pair to say the very least. Lulu's contempt for her own childish behavior grew to such an extreme that she could not face Wakka. Though, when the night grew cold, her heart was painfully reminded of its new need for him to be close.
One night, Wakka cornered Lulu, surprising her by appearing right outside her door when she came home from a thoughtful stroll.
She clenched her fist and took control, tilting her head to one side and saying in a refined voice, "Oh, have you been waiting long?"
"Half hour maybe," he replied through chattering teeth. "I bought some treats, but…" He held up his hand meekly to reveal a small fruit baked in a flaky pastry crust, hardened over with a caramelized sauce. It was a favorite in the area, but always meant to be served hot.
Lulu, feeling guilty, opened the door and gestured for him to enter the darkened hut. She saw his hand droop and the present fall to collect dirt and gray snow as it rolled away.
"I guess I'll go…"
"No…that is…" Lulu searched for words in the shadows. "Please stay."
They got settled, and went to sit on the bed. Both were well protected from the cold with warm winter clothing, and the woman was short on firewood. There was no fire, only faint musings to illuminate the situation.
"I guess I thought things…ya know, they might be a bit different, ya?" Wakka said, and she could hear him gripping at his own hands, wringing them out with frustration.
"I…I…" Lulu didn't know how to explain. She didn't have an explanation—unforgivable. She should know everything about herself. Wasn't she in charge of her own feelings? "I fear I am…weird around you."
"Weird?"
"I get all childish…like a teenaged girl, or something. I never felt this way before."
"I thought we was more serious about each other," muttered Wakka, misinterpreting her words. "We…"
"I am, and I do love you…"
They both stopped, holding their breath. One breath might ruin the moment, might somehow reverse the very recent past.
Wakka had said he loved her, that day a few weeks ago when they had discovered sudden, passionate feelings for each other. But she had never said it aloud before. Wakka had feared what they shared was a moment of desperation for her, not a long-awaited climax to building emotion as it was with him.
"Why you avoid me?" he asked.
"I'm embarrassed… I… It… It happened so suddenly." The words started coming out before she could think of them. "I mean, I have never gone so far…and…I… I was embarrassed that I turned out to have fragile modesty after all…"
"It's okay, Lu… It was just between us," he tried to comfort her.
"Wakka, I'm going to have a baby!"
She was as shocked as he was, maybe more so. She had not wanted to tell herself the truth…but…
"Mine?"
"Idiot."
And then, she felt scared, for the first time in so long. What if Wakka couldn't handle it? What if he didn't believe her? What if he blamed her?
"I'm happy," Wakka said earnestly, almost crushing her in a quick and heavy embrace. The gentleness of his words gave Lulu no chance to doubt the sincerity behind them. She had never known Wakka to lie, either; he usually left his truest, most violent feelings on the outside for all to see. Perhaps it never occurred to him to bother concealing anything.
"I'm sorry," she cried into his chest. "I didn't meant to… It just happened…"
"Hey, I didn't mind, ya?" He placed his hands on either side of her face and pulled his fingers back through his hair until he was holding her delicate head in his own two hands. He thought it felt good, to touch her like this and be close to her.
Lulu had never been comfortable with showing any vulnerability, but it seemed all right for Wakka to see it. After all, he made her feel at ease with it somehow. Maybe it was because he so absolutely believed in her strength. Maybe any fragility she allowed him to see did not tarnish the clear vision he had of her.
"I've never…cried in front of anyone…but you, Wakka," Lulu confessed. "Not since my parents died." She did not really need to add the last part; most of their generation had suffered the loss of parents sometime early in life. It was practically a given everyone was an orphan.
Wakka tugged his fingers through her long hair, letting the smooth black strands wrap around each thick digit. "A baby, huh?" he mused. His hand took the privilege of running down her body to her stomach. It was the first time he touched the small life that was just beginning there.
"You are not upset with me?" sniffed Lulu.
"It my fault more'n yours," he chuckled softly. "I just couldn't resist ya." His lips groped their way down her forehead to her cheek, just in front of her ear so she could hear the soft, steady breathing and feel the moist air so very close.
Lulu found herself smiling through the tears. It was the first time she felt a bit of confidence about the baby. "Wakka…?"
She did not need to finish the sentence.
"Ya. I'll take of you, Lu," he assured her. These were, she was sure, the most wonderful words in the entire world.
-
Memories are nice. But that's all they are.
They belong on the inside…
Rikku cuddled up with herself, hugging her knees underneath her chin and looking out on the twirling snowflakes gently bathed in filtered moonlight. She wondered why she was so grumpy all the time lately. Just this night, she had argued with Yuna about being nicer to Zysac. Zysac, well… Yuna didn't know everything about him, did she?
I don't know what's so wrong with me, Rikku thought. She was really worried about herself. Most of the time she could put on a chipper face, but… Why can't I be like I used to be? Am I becoming a bad person? I spend too much time thinking about my own worries.
Rikku sat on the windowsill, a shelf-type area that curved outward past the main wall of the house. It was fairly high up, but the flexible Al-Bhed had found no difficulty in springing up there. It was a sizable place, obviously meant for sitting. But she could hardly imagine a Ronso climbing up here…
I was cheery up until we left the ship. What changed, what changed inside? Rikku felt as anxious about this nagging pain as she might about a bolt of lightning and the crashing of thunder nearby.
Rikku sensed it was something about Zysac. She had met the boy earlier that year when she was hard at work renovating her ship at New Home. He had meekly asked if he might do her some sort of favor. Rikku had been pretty tired at that time and wasn't really concentrating on anything but welding a new piece of metal over a breech in the hull.
She had brushed him off without a second thought, and the boy hadn't talked to her for a month at least. But she always saw him, and she always felt like he was watching…
"Aw, you can't handle it? It's only a little crush, baby daughter," Cid had guffawed when she had approached her father with these concerns. "And why not? My daughter is the prettiest thing in the world!" His eyes had glinted then, quite strangely, causing his pride and joy to back away slowly.
"Want me to tell him to lay off?" Rikku's brother had offered later that same day.
"No…no…" Rikku was left to sort things out on her own. There was a certain loneliness in Zysac's eyes that penetrated his goggles, something that really hit home with her. The cord it pulled in her heart was a strained one.
The next time Rikku had to talk to Zysac, he acted as what turned out to be normally for him—quiet, obedient, unresisting. She never caught him staring after her again. Every time, however, that she had a task for him, he took it upon himself completely and did more than what was required. She needed a bucket of water; he brought two. She needed a floor cleaned; it was soon shiny enough to make out her detailed reflection in it.
He often struggled with physical labor, and the other workers of his age found this endlessly amusing to poke fun at. Zysac would never protest. Instead, he would just stand there with silent acceptance. Sometimes, to Rikku's enragement, he might even nod his head to their cruel comments. But she could grasp no way to try and help without scolding him more.
"You're right," he said often. "I am…insufficient." They were big, weighted words for a boy who looked so young, seemed so young…simply in the way he carried himself, the way he had no bold words for fate, the way he would trudge along through life with the orders of others his only guide.
Rikku would only become more upset with him. She cursed often about how his posture was bad. "Cheer up! Stand up straight! The world is happy—why aren't you?" The echoes of hypocrisy resounded within her each time. But at least she was gleeful part of the time; Zysac dragged depression around with him like a child might carry a beloved security blanket. Without it, was he even less of a person than he was now?
"I'm weak," he would tell her. There was no courage inside to raise his eyes up to meet her beautiful emerald jewels, but plenty of power allowed Zysac's hands to squeeze each other behind him when Rikku addressed him.
"You silly boy," the young woman muttered more times than she cared to count. Each time, her blond hair would shake with her head, and she would step away to run about some other pressing task.
Presently, she heard footsteps outside. Being the curious person she was, Rikku emerged from her deep thought (she didn't like to do too much of it, anyway) and expertly crossed the room without making a sound.
She opened the door just a crack and saw a flash of light reflecting off of light hair. Well, she imagined it couldn't be a Ronso, so she pursued to see which of her traveling companions it was.
Again, her feet moved silently. She crouched low and stayed up against the wall, which was difficult in the long, restricting nightgown she had chosen to wear this night. Her loose hair snagged on a nail in the wall, and it took all the control she possessed not to yelp in pain as she lost those strands to this hidden enemy.
Rikku was surprised when the person she was following creaked open a door at the end of the hall and disappeared into it. She danced after, more intrigued than ever that whoever it was ascended to the highest level of the house.
At the top of the stairs was a very small room that stuck up out of the roof like a horn on a Ronso's head. One side was up against the carved rock face and the other three were mostly comprised of large, single pane windows.
There was a large bench on the dark side of the room, a wooden one situated so that any occupant of it could look out and witness all the splendor the Ronso-created valley had to hold.
Presently, Rikku stepped in. She looked up and gave a little squeak, her blond hair falling over her face gently, the wave curving around her small nose for a dramatic, mature affect. She had made a mistake; the person she had been following was not Yuna or Zysac. It was Kimahri. It must have seen his silver braid she saw in the dimness downstairs.
"You follow Kimahri?" the man wondered, his deep voice resounding in the circular room.
Rikku brought her slender, bare arm up and tucked the fallen hair behind her ear. She scratched the back of her head and smiled so big her eyes closed. "Eh…yeah." Her voice was meek.
Kimahri made a noise like "hmm", but it could have been thunder grumbling in the distance for all the Al-Bhed knew. She considered the Ronso carefully. Yes, she liked Kimahri; she admired his bravery and determination, especially the way he protected Yuna like a big brother. But he never really acted like he had much of a personality of his own—even that he kept inside. She didn't know any Ronsos well, so maybe they were all like that. Nonetheless, he was very hard to read.
She had seen him a bit more at ease several weeks before, when she had first attained the sphere. He had been showing children some slow martial arts moves that would help improve their flexibility and reflexes, and growing (teasingly so) impatient with them. He had even chuckled with one little boy—what a rare thing to see Kimahri laugh!
"Sit," Kimahri said, and he moved his large body over on the bench to allow the woman plenty of room.
Rikku was the friendly type, so she scooted over and plopped down next to him. She was curious about why he was over here and climbing up the steps. Besides, now she had company. She didn't have to be alone with her own doubts for the time being.
"So, why're ya here?" she started off right away. "Don't you stay with the kids?"
"Kimahri like to watch here," he replied. He lifted one arm from where it was folded across his chest and waved towards the opposing wall, out to the sparkling silver world.
Rikku took this opportunity to see that the clouds had stepped aside for the moon in the far sky, allowing some sharp beacons of light to shed their beauty on the sparkling white world and the graceful flakes. "Pretty," she whistled, leaning back on the bench and kicking up her naked feet.
Kimahri merely nodded. "How is Rikku?" he asked after a while, as though he had been struggling to form an appropriate question in his mind.
Rikku pursed her lips, sticking them out in a slanted manner to show a sort of pouty and mellow expression. With her pretty young face framed by sparkling golden locks, she made a rather preoccupied-looking lady, like the troubles of the world rested on her poor, fragile little shoulders.
Perhaps they did.
"Well, you know…" she started out slowly and carefully, drawing out her words in a serious way that almost seemed too much. "I'm just kinda grumpy lately. I try to be happy but it can be hard sometimes."
"Why is that?" Kimahri replied, this time without the pause.
Rikku studied his warrior features carefully, seeing in them all the sincerity and nobility of the Ronso people. She worked hard to come up with a good enough answer for him, searching as far as the depths of her heart.
She took a deep breath and began. "It's just that… Oh, I don't know. I see everyone around me—maybe not everyone, but lots of people. They just aren't truly happy. They have a lot weighing on them, and they're so darn down I can't help but feel that way too—for them, you know?
"The worst part is…I can't figure out any sort of way of making them better. I try but it's either useless or it makes them feel worse. I…I…I feel like a failure."
"Kimahri know." The Ronso hesitated, then lifted up one great paw and placed it delicately on Rikku's head. "Kimahri think Rikku help people best when Rikku is Rikku."
Rikku tilted her head to the side. A grin gradually grew upon her face, until her sweet face was beaming brighter than the pale orb far beyond the windows. "Really? Think I should stay happy? For other people?"
"No. Rikku be happy for Rikku, then Rikku help friends." Kimahri gently rubbed the top of her head and took his hand away, the shimmering strands slipping off his claws easily.
"Okay, I see." She placed her hands under her seat and rocked back and forth on the cold bench, ignoring the goosebumps that were multiplying on her arms. The nightgown she was wearing was very simple; it had no sleeves, and was just material from her bust to her shins, held up with two spaghetti straps that crisscrossed on her back. The light material was perfect for Al-Bhed weather—that of the constantly scorching desert—but it was of little use in the land of Ronso.
"Rikku cold?" Kimahri asked.
"A little," she admitted shyly.
Kimahri nodded. He stood up and left immediately, returning in a few minutes with a large blanket, which he in turn dumped on her shoulders clumsily.
"Oh, thanks!" the woman said earnestly, wrapping the thing about her like a cloak. It dwarfed her considerably, obviously being intended to cover a fully-grown Ronso.
"Better?"
"Yep!" Rikku noticed the thing smelled a bit like Kimahri did, and she was a little embarrassed to think he had hastily ripped it off his own bed, and not fetched it from a closet or something like that.
"So, are you staying here?" she wondered.
"Eh? Kimahri can stay here, with Aunt," he explained roughly. "Sometimes, others watch children. Kimahri stay so he take care of Yuna and Rikku in case of trouble."
"Hey, Kimahri…can I ask you something else too?"
"Rikku can talk to Kimahri about anything," he declared gently, lowering the level of his voice as a courtesy to those who rested on the floors below.
Rikku smiled, taking in the sort of musty scent of the room and the masculine one the blanket had received from Kimahri. She liked the Ronso. They were a simple people, maybe a bit trusting to a fault when it had come to Yevon, but they were earnest, hardworking, and decent. The Al-Bhed felt like she could always trust in them to follow their beliefs and morals to the very end, and this was truly a righteous quality.
"Rikku?" prompted Kimahri.
Rikku giggled a bit, laughing at herself for getting lost in thinking about the Ronso so much she forgot to address the one right next to her. "I just wanted to know if you ever miss them…and do you miss the way things used to be, when we were on the pilgrimage?"
"Mmm," Kimahri grunted, his head bowing firmly to accentuate his feelings. "Tidus and Auron great men. Kimahri never forget."
"I think I miss them too much sometimes," Rikku added, sighing softly. Again, her hair draped in graceful waves across her face, but she merely puffed with her lips in a fine circle. "So much I kinda feel sorry for myself. I never like it when people die."
"Kimahri too. It… Death very painful," he concluded quickly. "But life more beautiful than death ugly, right?"
Rikku wore a bittersweet smile. "It seems like everyone I love so much is taken away from me. I know I shouldn't be so selfish… My mother died when I was little… So many when Home was destroyed. Tidus…Auron…"
"Death hurt so much, maybe, because we do not say goodbye."
"I don't want to say goodbye," whispered Rikku. "You know, I've never gone into the Farplane, ever. I know it's not real, that it's just the pyreflies… But sometimes I've wanted to go and experience it, talk to Sudran…" Thinking of her mother made her taste salty tears, and she hid her face in the folds of the scratchy Ronso blanket.
"Kimahri…would you be surprised if I said I loved Tidus and Auron…?" she said, and there was such a long pause afterward that she really quite wondered if she had voiced the words loudly enough. "Ki—?" she began just as he spoke.
"Rikku love everyone, right? Kimahri can see her big heart… Think it not possible for her not to love so much."
"That's right," Rikku breathed. "I love everyone…"
It left her thinking, feeling like there was just a bit more to explain. Words waited on her lips that would not leave. Maybe it was too embarrassing.
But…something bad happens to everyone I love.
"Rikku…" Kimahri began, but he did not say anymore. He just leaned back and sat, ever vigilant. He carefully scanned the village. Rikku wondered if he was not acting as some sort of guard for the village. Was this his watch or something?
"Hmm…guess I'll go to bed now, huh?" She stood up and stretched out her arms and yawned.
"What that?" Kimahri suddenly exclaimed, jumping to his feet. His golden eyes were fixed on something outside, that looked like a mere dark blotch against the bright white snow at first, but…
"Kimahri?"
"Intruders," he growled. The blotch began to move—no, blotches. Figures. People.
"I go," he announced.
"Me too!" Rikku protested. "It'll only take me a sec to get ready," she called, scrambling down the stairs, expertly descending four or five at a time. Her leaps were huge and powerful, but silent. This was what a trained thief of the Al-Bhed could do.
She rushed to her room and tugged on her light-colored boots, snapping them up with quick, thin fingers. She reached into the slit of her nightgown and tied some grenades to her sleek thigh (just in case), then affixed her Godhand Weapon to her right arm. Finishing the outfit with a great swoosh of the cloak to cover her body, the girl ran to join Kimahri, who had picked up a spear by the door.
"Rikku okay?" he rumbled at as quiet a volume as he could make his alerted voice. He looked a bit nervous about taking the scarcely dressed girl with him, but he knew better than to question her skills. She was fast, quick, and could inflict a mean bite with those shiny white teeth.
Kimahri pushed open the door, struggling a little against the wind that blew trillions of blinding white flakes in the air. Rikku thought this odd; hadn't the storm been calm while they had been upstairs? She did not say anything, and followed Kimahri slowly across the village, which was becoming harder to navigate by the second.
"Who trespasses?"
It was a boom, an earthquake, the aftermath of a deadly lightning bolt.
It was Kimahri, who had just spotted what had been blotches. They were now full figures of people, moving deftly across the field. The wind slowed, as though it obeyed Kimahri's voice, and four people were left illuminated in the moonlight. A few stray gusts conjured up a white mist on the ground, but this was easily ignored.
Rikku immediately recognized a spikey-haired Guado girl, and she bared her teeth with a small growl. The Al-Bhed rocked back and forth steadily in her battle stance. Confrontation got the blood moving through her veins, which was welcome in this cold night. She cocked her head and silently asked for more.
She was not one to be trifled with, especially not lightly.
"Ah, simple-minded Ronso," said the other stranger, a roundish man in the robes of an Old Yevon priest. His voice was sort of slimy and slippery, and there was too much fake sweetness in it to be real. He squinted his eyes a little, which made his face look even more repulsive, Rikku noted. He wasn't particularly ugly, and he certainly wasn't handsome. It was just something in his mannerisms and voice that made him disgusting; something in the way his stringy brown hair came across his face and his square teeth shone.
"You underestimate Kimahri," was the Ronso's reply while Rikku was busy evaluating their possible foes.
"Big words! Almost as big as you," snarled the girl, who stood now so that she was in front of her monk companion. "However, it would not be difficult to best the likes of you. Stop interfering."
"Hey," Rikku replied, lifting her weapon from beneath the deep folds of the dark cloak. "We'll just see who's the best, eh?"
- - -
Author's Notes:
I'm sorry I took so long to update this. I was working on this chapter when I could, in bits and pieces, and then I had to go through and edit the whole dang thing. I've had a lot of big projects for school and all that fun stuff (translation: aah, save me from my honors classes!)
I am working on development and insight for all the characters. I guess everyone is pretty angsty, aren't they? Eee… I'll try not to get so carried away with that. Believe me, there is an underlying plot that will tie everything together, I'm just being lazy about getting around to that. I am not certain what will happen to Lulu, Tidus, etcetera, so anything could happen!
I hate to beg for reviews, because everyone does that, but I won't. If you have a minute, though, I'd love to hear from you about what you think. Hmm…but just having people read it is flattering enough, I think! ^_^;;