This story is dedicated to Luc Court and Ikopeiston; for without them this story would never had been.

So Far Down

Lord Jyscal Guado was supposed to be finishing his letter to Macalania Temple. He had his quill in his hands; the paper, white and smooth, lay before him empty. Reports and inventories all lay scattered around him. He was supposed to have had this done already; letter written, sealed and out before the messenger left for the day. But it wasn't; the guado's mind was somewhere else today.

He twirled the quill neatly between his fingers, watching with some amusement the ink
spotting over the paper; black stars in a sky of white.

"Do not worry, my lord," Tromell said, "she is going to be fine."

Tromell's voice lacked the concern that he would have normally expected from someone as close as to guado lord. Jyscal picked this up immediately; he looked up at him and smiled weakly, still twirling the black feather in his long fingers.

Tromell was never for my marriage, the guado thought, still running his fingers along the black feather, in fact neither were the Guado. Although as the lord of the Guado, the marriage between Jyscal Guado and human woman was unheard of. Even a thousand years of tradition was not an easy thing to break, not even for someone like Jyscal.

He had hoped that his marriage would help unite the two races Guado and human, hoping the human would see the Guado in a new light. Hoping to finally put aside the long mistrust and misunderstanding that lay between the two societies.

The Guado were always known as a reclusive society, shunning contact with others. Only recently and with Jyscal's urging that they have come out of the shell they had created to take their places among the races of Spira. Jyscal had just recently been ordained as Priest of Yevon, setting an example he was hoping other Guado would follow. He hoped to win Yevon's favor and to spare himself and his people the fate of the Al Bheds; forever reviled, feared and outcasts of a world who refused to accept them.

He put down his quill onto the paper still void of words, leaving drops of black ink where well-penned words should have been.

So far it had only backfired in his face. Murmuring grew rapidly against the new changes

being made. The Farplane, the mysterious place that housed the thoughts of the dead was

being opened to outsiders. Officials from Bevelle started coming more frequently than ever, slowly converting the Guado to religion of Yevon. Yet Jyscal had sympathy for them. A proud race, undisturbed for over a millennium now suddenly being thrust in a strange world.

A knock at the door broke Jyscal out of his trance; Trommell walked over and opened it. A guado came in, his face lined with exhaustion

"My lord," he began, worry in his eyes, "its about your child."

Jyscal would still swear his heart skipped a beat upon hearing those words, already he could feel adrenaline coursing though his veins, preparing him for what would be said next.

"Your child," said the guado, and then smiled, "your child is a boy."

Jyscal's mind stopped like the innards of a machina suddenly gone awry. He looked at the guado standing there in pure disbelief.

"My lord, would you like to see him," asked the guado, a smile still playing on his face.

Jyscal nodded silently; the impact of his words stunning him like a blow to the head.

A son, thought Jyscal, all these long years and now finally a son. His mind repeated those words over and over as if any moment they were going to drift away. The inventories and worries were already forgotten as he allowed himself to be led out of his study, following the guado through winding staircases and long hallways that made his palace to where is wife was.

The guado stopped and opened the door for his lord.

The room was painted the color of sand; the color of the white sands glittering under the Bikanel sun. Three large windows made up the back wall. Raindrops on the panes distorted the plants outside, making the green and blue of their leaves run into the silver of the tree trunks behind them, the brown earth below. It whispered tranquility, making all problems seem nonexistent until one walked out the door.

As Jyscal walked through the doorway his eyes immediately fell on his wife lying propped up in a bed. Her hair flowed like a black waterfall down her shoulders, cascading down her back to pool at her waist. Eyes that reminded Jyscal of stars in the night sky met his and her whole face lit up as she smiled at his coming. He walked over to her and sat down. Brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes and tucking it behind one ear, he looked down and saw the wrapped bundle that held his newborn. Gently scooping the baby up out of his mother's hold, Jyscal cradled his son in his arms.

Pride flooded through Jyscal like never before. He looked down at the sleeping form of his newborn. He never expected that something so tiny would affect him so much.

"He has your face," said Jyscal, running a finger along a cheek. She smiled, "he has your hands," she said, gently opening a tiny fist to reveal long fingers and already beginnings of nail.

"What is his name," she asked, "you said once you saw him, you would know what his name would be."

Jyscal chuckled, deep and throaty, "I did say that didn't I." He stroked the fine dark blue hairs thickly grown on his son's head. He stopped suddenly and looked up at her.

"Seymour," he said softly, then looking back down at his child sound asleep in his arms, "Seymour Guado."