(A/N: This story was originally written to be part of a series of one-shots, based around something else entirely. But this part turned out well, while the others... Well, they may have a chance. Maybe. They're near doomed to the trash bin, while this one... I see it likely evolving from one-shot to a full fiction. I decided to only use a little Al Bhed in the story. Translations are at the bottom of the page, but I think through circumstance you should be able to somewhat grasp what they're saying. If you feel that I've missed anything, feel free to let me know.)
The sun was setting on Bikanel. The work for the day was pushing onward into the night. The grand structure that would keep all Al Bhed safe and happy was swiftly underway. The arguments with the Yevonites had reached their final, violent peak, and so the Al Bhed took to this lone island, where they could live and work in peace.
The ideal was a lofty one; one structure that could shelter all Al Bhed from the sun and sand here. It was a massive dream. It helped the people to hope. It really seemed possible, at the rate everyone worked at it.
A young Al Bhed woman, Bayla, sat on a sand dune watching the sun set over the distant shore. She'd be called on soon for the early evening shift. Alchemists like herself weren't all that good for construction, but they were handy in repelling the local fiends, thusly giving the workers peace of mind and the ability to focus on building their dream.
She turned a recording sphere over in her hands and spoke to it.
"We've been working a month now, and few people are showing signs of tiring. This 'Home' we're building keeps everyone going. That's to be it's name: Home. Not a city, not a house, simply 'Home'.
"I really believe we can do this. When we finally fled our small neighborhoods throughout Spira due to harassment and persecution over machina by the Yevonites, I thought we'd never be safe. But now, I really think we can have a home on this barren island. We're making life where there is none, and it's showing signs of thriving."
She smiled musingly.
"Upon discovering where we were headed, the Yevonites almost helped us pack. Little do they know just how well off we really are here. There is even talk that Sin avoids this place. There is no scarring from its attack, though that may just be the dunes covering them up."
A sharp whistle pierced the quiet dusk.
Bayla's elder brother Badan waved her over.
"Bayla! Lusa uh, oui'mm pa myda!"
Bayla stood up, and dusted the sand from her clothes.
"E's lusehk! Uha caluht!" She called back.
She turned back to her recording sphere one more time. The sun had set by now, darkening her face.
"Badan's really quiet about what he thinks. Some times he seems to hate the Yevonites for judging us, other times he shrugs it all off. He is one of the most passionate among us about our new home. I think it takes his mind off of what troubles him."
She turned the sphere off, tucked it in a pocket, and pelted across the sands after her brother.
Badan was taking a leisurely pace back to the site, his gun slung over his shoulder. Even so, he had a huge lead heading back to the camp. He tipped his head around as he heard Bayla's hurried footsteps kicking up sand.
"Fryd duug oui?" He inquired teasingly.
"Crid ib, Badan." Bayla replied, shoving him lightly.
They reached one of the shelters surrounding the construction site at the tail end of their patrol group.
After a few updates on progress and fiend activity, the group was paired off. Each pair included an alchemist and a gunman.
Bayla was paired with Lycao, one of her male friends, while Badan was paired with a skilled older man by the name of Nelrynt.
With their assignments, they set out.
The stars glittered proudly overhead. The cool night breeze was a welcome comfort as they held off fiends.
"Well," chuckled Lycao. "I wouldn't think fiends would bother coming here."
Bayla shrugged as she lobbed a darkness grenade at a pair of fiends. The shrapnel and the blinding gas from the explosion made them easy targets for Lycao.
He watched thoughtfully as they burst into pyreflies and dissipated. He let their ascension guide his eyes to the velvet sky.
"Huh. You can't see the stars like this, even from Besaid."
Bayla followed his gaze.
"You're right." she remarked.
They stared up in wonder at the sky for a quiet moment. Bayla's eyes were the first to come down.
"When we first came here, did you think we could survive?" She asked.
Lycao brought his gaze down from the heavens, down to meet hers. He was smiling, but his goggle-protected eyes hid a lot of pain. His father had been in the thick of the arguments with the Yevonites. True, he had fought for peace between them, but in the end, that couldn't save him from the hatred around him. It hurt Bayla almost as much as it hurt Lycao. She had grown up in his house as much as her own.
Regardless of the pain, Lycao smiled.
"I didn't doubt it. My father stood up for everyone's happiness. He'd want us to live. He's with us now, in every tool and every heart, building the cradle of our future."
There was a heavy, silent, poignant moment.
Beneath his goggles, Bayla was sure Lycao was hiding tears. Tears of frustration, sadness, hatred...
"Bayla..." Lycao said reluctantly.
"Yes?"
He flipped up his goggles. A month's worth of hidden pain pooled in his eyes.
"I miss him. It wasn't right." he said firmly.
Bayla's eyes watered at the sight.
"I miss him too."
Almost reluctantly, the two lifetime friends moved closer together, and shared a comforting embrace.
The sand nearby started running like water. Lycao and Bayla separated to look at it.
Lycao smiled grimly, and flipped his goggles down.
"I want to work out some frustration." He said simply, and charged toward the shifting sand; a surfacing giant worm.
Bayla sighed, feeling that, with that confession of his feelings, Lycao had taken a step toward coming to terms with his father's death.
Feeling better, herself, she pelted after him, pulling items out of her pockets as she ran.
Around dawn, the teams all regrouped to pass on the watch, then parted ways to go and rest.
As Badan entered the small shelter they shared, Bayla lingered outside to watch the sun start creeping over the horizon.
She pulled her journal sphere from her pocket, and set it to record.
"Another new day dawns on Bikanel, another day of hope for us all. Hope... and healing. For however many of us have lost loved ones, we carry the same number of legacies into our new Home."
Smiling at the now-gentle warmth of the sun, Bayla pocketed her sphere, then entered the shelter to sleep, and await the next night.
Translations:
Bayla! Lusa uh, oui'mm pa myda! - Bayla! Come on, you'll be late!
E's lusehk! Uha caluht! - I'm coming! One second!
Fryd duug oui? - What took you?
Crid ib, Badan. - Shut up, Badan.