Revolution
.o.
The first time they met, she was a child, sparkling and petulant. She was also deceitful and priceless, and as he watched her, he pursed his lips behind a dark crimson cape and said nothing. She wasn't his concern. He was Chaos;half-demon whom time had forgotten, though the world had not.
The second time, she was a queen. Grey eyes were darker now, and her fists wereharder as she beat them against his black suit. She was in name the Lady of Wutai, but when she cursed, he swore he could sometimes see the girl he'd first met. He'd become an emissary at some point in the aftermath; trading his rifle and cape for fancy words and tailored suits that were never, never blue. She wouldn't let him use his fancy words around her; her eyes would mock him behind her polite smile, and then flash with a seriousness that frightened him once the others had left. He was all that she could depend on, she told him.
He knew she couldn't, and he left the next morning, leaving a white chrysanthemum and the weapon he'd forged for her; courage etched into one of the shuriken's spikes. She didn't cry that morning... hissing breath, flurried eyes looking for a note, some explanation her only show ofweakness… but she quickly recovered, pasting a smile on her face and the flower in her hair. The shuriken was hurled blindly into the wall, and she accepted the marriage proposal she received the very next day, much to the delighted surprise of her advisors. She'd forget him, she swore, but her weapon and the scar it had left would not let her.
The third was unexpected; she'd searched him out in the sun-spattered canyons where he had finally settled. She was a rejected lover now, but not his… twenty-three years old;a mother left to raise her firstborn. Her husband, she told him over a glass of Canyon Fire, had abandoned her and Suiko for an advisor's aide with bigger breasts and a meeker spirit, and he caught himself -with no small amount of surprise -wondering how a man could be so imbecilic. So he'd kissed her, not sure which of them was more surprised at his action. It was… memory… Possibility. But they both knew they couldn't hide away, and she left that night.
At twenty-nine she found him again, entrusting the throne and her beloved daughter to Karasuma; one of her senior advisors and the sister of her second cousin, who the world knew only as Tseng. When they met for the fourth time, she had grown out her hair and called herself Sienne, after its reddish hues. Somewhere along the way, he cut his, and she named him Luc, after 'some old Mideelian myth' that he knew all too well; he could sympathize with the fallen angel that he'd read of, but he was no longer sure that he wanted to be one.
They ran together now, and his eyes flashed as he realized that she still carried his weapon. Glowing under his gaze, she grinned, telling him that an old friend named 'Vinnie' had made it back when she was young and foolish. They were adventurers for two years; the world had changed since they had last saved it, but its shadows had not been completely dispelled. He held her without regret now some nights, and he knew that her affection was tinged with envy of his apparent immortality. Yet she never left, and it puzzled him further even as he realized that while he could not age, he could still love…
The fifth time was over candlelight; not romantic, because neither of them were. She was poring over a map while he drank his coffee, but as she looked up at him, she froze. Shaking her head to clear it, she lifted a strand of his hair to the candlelight, eyes comically wide as she whispered "…silver…"
And indeed it was, he realized; it appeared that Time had not forgotten him after all. Grey met red, and their facades dropped; they were Yuffie and Vincent once again. That night it stormed, but in the morning, two bedraggled travelers arrived on the Wutaian shores, travelers no more.
The mountains of Da Chao have six faces, and he met her for the last time under their crags as her husband. He'd never worn the traditional Wutaian dress before, and she laughed at his uncharacteristic awkwardness, her hands flying to help him unravel the long sleeves. They'd climbed the mountains after the elaborate ritual was over, Suiko perched gleefully on his shoulder and calling him 'Vinnie,' much to the delight of her mother. That night, after Suiko had burrowed into her sleeping bag, they sat on a ledge and talked, Yuffie's grey eyes serious as she asked if he feared the future – death and age were no longer strangers to him, she said, silently asking if he regretted her company.
His eyes swept from the city below to the sleeping child behind him, but they eventually met and held her own gaze. "Why be afraid of tomorrow," he replied, carefully entangling his fingers with hers. "We'll always have today."
.o.
finis
.o.
Disclaimer: Yuffie, Vincent, and the world of Final Fantasy VII do not belong to me… I know them better than I should, I think, but ownership eludes. Suiko is mine however; the little 'water child' might be back; she's as lovable and fascinating as her mother, and has served as a short-term muse in Christmas Fic Season.
Sabe's Scribbles: This was written as a Christmas shortfic for Solain Rhyo… Vincent and Yuffie are a difficult but rewarding duo to write; hopefully I portrayed them convincingly. Your thoughts are always appreciated; in the meanwhile, Cheers!