Disclaimer – Final Fantasy X/X-2 is owned by the great people at SquareEnix. Bow to their mastery of the art of game making.
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Red, Sand, and Pyreflies
I don't know why I'm telling you any of this, because the situations surrounding it all are far too complicated and it would take me forever to explain, but I feel like if I don't tell someone I might explode into a thousand little pieces of flesh and bone and left over machina parts. Maybe it's because we went to visit his grave today, Tidus and I, which brought back a whole stream of memories of traveling and fighting and red. Red like the sky over the Moon Flow when the sun is setting, where the pyreflies all float, making it look like some sort of mystical, otherworld realm where only the pure of soul should be allowed to go, because it's so beautiful and untouched that you're scared to breathe because you might disrupt some balance they've created by being there.
They're so pretty, pyreflies, and it really makes me sad that something so beautiful is associated with something so negative like death. I would rather look at them and think of life and not just everything that led up to it's demise, but its continuation. People in Spira concentrate too much on death, on endings, because Yevon told them so and it would kill them to think for themselves. They just drag their feet everywhere – Repent! Repent! - accepting everything as an act of Yevon and never really living. And then when everything becomes too much for them, when Yevon decides there's no more fun to be had, it all ends in a split second as they're swallowed whole into the darkness of Sin. I mean, what're they living for? They're living for Sin and their summonors on their death marches to nowhere, that's what. They're living so they can end.
I'm never going to end, no matter what. Even when I die, I won't end. I'll just melt into the earth and the sky, just like he did when he disappeared. I know he did, I could feel it back then on the airship and I can still feel it now. He watches over me and protects me, just like he did when he was alive and my titanium bangle got stolen by those stupid men who called me an Al Bhed harlot. He diced their armor up good for that. I think that's when I started really crushing on him. I'm pretty sure Yuna remembers it because I got all giddy in a confused sort of way and rambled on for hours. Thinking about it makes me happy, even now. He made me want to twirl around in some sort of giggly, prepubescent first crush dance, like I'd finally come to the realization that boys don't have cooties and I'm allowed to hold their hands. Gippal didn't even make me feel that way and he was the be all and end all of any relationship I could ever want, which obviously isn't true anymore because I've discontinued the ritual of running up to everyone I know and proclaiming "Yes! This is the boy I've waited for!" Gippal made me think too much and really, any boy who makes you question the validity of your actions is bad news from the start.
That's why I liked Auron, he never made me think too much. Well, he did make me think, but not in that nervous, does-this-dress-look-good-on-me sort of way. It was in a nice way, an intelligent way, and I never worried about how I looked because we were always a mess from wandering around Spira for days without a bath or even a change of clothes. And that didn't matter, y'know? The only time I ever got nervous with him, and I'm not even sure nervous is the right word because I was more excited than anything, was that time in the Calm Lands, before Sin and the summoning and everything going too fast for my mind to process it. We were lying next to each other and he smelled so good, like a mixture of spices and rain all in one, and I could hear him breathing and I just wanted to burry myself in his body because I was just so happy.
I wish I could just catalog all the memories I have of him. File it under "A" for Auron. I want to plaster them on my walls so I can always look at them and never forget. I'm scared to death I'll forget and then he'll just disappear into the past forever and then he'll really be dead. Sometimes it keeps me up, so I stare at the stars and wonder if he's somewhere up there staring back at me with his one eye, wondering what it is I'm doing. And I'll tell him because he deserves to know; I wouldn't want him wandering around the endless abyss of wherever he is beside himself because he didn't know. I tell him that I want to tackle him and scream "I love you!" over and over until my vocal chords burst and I can't speak anymore. I tell him that I want to press myself into his body until we fuse together into a mess of red and sand and pyreflies and watch the world collapse underneath from us, so the colors all mix together and everything's just a uniform shade of grey. There's no pain, no death march, no Sin, just us. And sometimes I yell at him for making me cry because he's too quiet and stupid and dead. It breaks my heart to think about, but then when the wind blows and it ruffles my hair, sending shivers down my spine, and I know that it's him and that he's up there somewhere watching me, so I don't feel so lonely anymore. It's like that fairy tale Pops used to tell me when I was little, the one about the two lovers who were separated by a powerful curse, but somehow managed to find each other in the end and live happily ever after. I like to think that's how we'll end up one day because I'm horribly optimistic and naïve about these types of things. It's a nice thought, though, and I'm going to keep thinking it just like I'm going to keep breathing and feeling and living.