Coup D'état
"[. . .] we suffer and we learn.
And we will know the future when it comes.
Greet it too early, weep too soon.
It all comes clear in the light of day."
(Aeschylus, Agamemnon)
The sunset washed over the city's stone palaces. Luca was shining, its crystal domes slept like birds on the highest peak in the last rays of a warm lonely sun. Auron's hazel eyes roamed over the city; tourists were making their ways back to the hotels, hands full of shopping bags. Bars were ready to open for another round of night life. The air was lively, and Auron felt…young. All those lives, intertwining like the city streets, so frail and yet so powerful, completely capable – now that they could – to shape their world.
Like a lonely God, Auron stood pensive on the last bricks of the Mi'ihen Road. Wantz respectfully stopped beside him.
"Hey, you…" he said, staring at the city, "...you look like you're seeing the world for the first time."
"I am."
A child ran beyond them, excited for the game. Auron smiled.
"Let's get going".
Chapter 5 - desert mirage
Their night at Rin's Travel Agency was quiet. No one recognized him, and he was glad Rin wasn't there; even though Auron knew there was a chance he already knew about him being alive. The man had his intel: Rin was a powerful man, scary in a way, hiding behind an educated merchant's mask.
But he trusted him, amazingly, or maybe not, because he resembled him. After all, Rin was aware of Auron's status of unsent and never betrayed him, never spoke to his party members. He was to be trusted. Maybe not with gils...
Back then, anyone powerful enough in Spira knew that he was unsent. Anyone but his summoner's party.
He wondered… If he had to meet each and every one of them now, would they hate him?
Yuna wouldn't. She was wise enough, and bred in sacrifice, just like him. The Besaid man and mage, they wouldn't even have the guts of hating him, but he knew they judged him. Being an Unsent was one of the worst sins in Yevon's Spira. Which was hilarious, really, considering the fact that half of the clergy was made by dead men.
Kimahri knew, and respected him silently; he was a brother, a fine warrior and an honorable guardian. He was there when he died, held his forehead against his own blue furred head while he exhaled his last breath.
Tidus, the gone kid, when he found out was profoundly shaken; he saw the boy's face in his memories. After all he was almost the same as him, a dream walking this earth against the rules, or maybe following the same old script of fate… He felt sadness thinking about the boy. For as much as you may love someone - as a son, as his son - you cannot fight fate.
Then there was… her. The little Al Bhed girl. She would probably be the one hating him. He was certain, and if he had to be honest he thought of it over and over again even during the Pilgrimage. In a weird, tragic way, her opinion was the one he cared about the most, maybe because she was young, a little drop of the future squeezed in her little frame. She reminded him of his cadets, a lifetime before. She had the same look in her eyes. A look which said: "tell me what to do, guide me, show me the way, I am a blank canvas and I need guidance".
He felt very uncomfortable around her. Not because he couldn't be the teacher she seeked… He just wasn't worthy. He only had lessons about death and sacrifice. He felt ashamed, back then, and the echoes of those feelings still lingered. She was twitching with life, jumpin, falling, laughing, crying, shouting, dancing, running, smiling… and she made him feel so small. It felt so wrong for him to be around her. As if his only existence tainted hers. The thing that hurt him the most was the hope in her eyes.
He knew she hated him now. The biggest sin he felt he committed was lying to her; she, who pledged to never lie to him, and truly never did. The only way he could bear that thought was because he did it for her sake.
While Wantz slept in the bed near his own, snoring softly, Auron's mind was besieged by these thoughts. The whole night went on sleepless, until dawn enlightened the room and, by that time, they had to get back on the road.
Auron followed Wantz through the streets of Luca. The plan was to retrieve something - a certificate, he understood - from another merchant. Auron kept following the man in his errands since he didn't know what to do.
For the time being, it was convenient to do so. He could learn about this new world silently, pretending to be nothing but a mere merchant's assistant; the black cloak Wantz gave him helped with that. To be honest, his company was not so bad after all. They started to understand each other, as a natural consequence of travelling together. The same happened with each and every single one of his companions. Some in the past, though, proved to be challenging. Especially young ones like Tidus, or crazy blitzers like Jecht.
It runs in the blood…
Auron chuckled.
Luca was particularly shiny and lively. The game, as he overheard from a young couple chatting near a bar, was scheduled for the evening. The Deathseeker was going to attend the game; he was a long lost companion as well. Many called him Nooj, now, but when he was in the Crimson Squad he was only referred to as Deathseeker. Auron knew everything about that disastrous operation. Kinoc was very cautious in his plans of control, but not wise enough to cover his traces completely. Auron's intel were capable of reporting to him everything about that little secret side operation.
The first time he met him, Nooj was a young crusader. His sacrifice cost him an arm and a leg. Many sought death for less, so the Deathseeker was an easy nickname to come up with. As he understood, Nooj was now one of the main leaders of Spira. The drive for death can be easily transformed into a drive for power, Auron thought. It was a story he read over and over again over his lifetimes.
They entered a bar. The smell of liquor was pleasant, the wooden bar counter was empty, but a few customers were already sitting at the free tables all around the large and rounded main room; many plants were drooping from the ceiling, bright vines intertwined with intense colored flowers. A pretty waitress was smiling at them. Auron naturally evaded her gaze, timid. Wantz, on the other side, walked to the counter merrily.
"Hullo, pretty young lady, I am Mr. Wantz of the Oakas, here to meet Prune," he said. The waitress nodded. She glanced at Auron once more, blushing. Auron nodded, serious. She disappeared in a little green door behind the counter.
"Hey!" Wantz exclaimed, winking at him, "the miss was definitely starstruck!"
Auron chuckled.
"I am no star, though"
"Well, you resemble one…" Wantz laughed, baritone.
They were interrupted by the arrival of Prune. He was a tall man, dressed in silks, which defined his high merchant status, blue guado hair and green Al Bhed eyes. Auron was surprised; he lowered his cloak over his face. The man was weird, he made him think of a strict and religious guado man falling in love with a carefree blonde Al bhed. Prune brought his left hand to his right shoulder, then he smiled sincerely, showing his teeth, even whiter compared to the tanned skin.
"Wantz!" he greeted his colleague, "you're here for the certificate, I assume"
Wantz nodded, gentle, "It is needed to represent my family tomorrow"
Auron's attention spiked. Tomorrow?
"I thought you didn't care about politics," the green haired man spoke with a small guado inflection. Just when he said something very Guadoish, Auron thought maliciously.
Wantz was a good man, not a naive one.
"Aren't we all?" His somber answer brought the conversation to a dead point. Prune searched for something in a large pouch on his waistcoat. He fished a document and gave it to the other merchant, then his green spiral eyes turned towards Auron.
He studied him silently for a while. Auron did the same. Then Prune smiled.
"He is charming," he laughed in Wantz's direction, "Definitely. A squared squire!"
Auron lowered his cloak even more.
Gippal was nowhere to be found the next day, and Shiruba was attending the preparation for the arrival of the Ambassadors from Luka's trade committee. So Rikku was alone for the time being, and with not much to do, which wasn't exactly what she hoped for. Her inside twitched with anxiety.
She discussed the energy source matter with Cid, who convinced her to do something about it. She realized how silly it was for her to be so aggressive with Gippal. She felt sorry.
So now she was walking through Bikanel's market, in the asphyxiating hotness of the desert day, her belly shuddering with regrets. She felt like one of those pieces of machina which worked perfectly until one day they just didn't. Sometimes she felt like a switch was in her mind, something on her nerves, which put her rationality aside and made her move on autopilot.
My autopilot is dumb and impulsive in the most stupid way possible!
She thought of Gippal. She had to make it up to him.
Bikanel's markets were full of life and joy. Usually she would jump from one stand to another, touching the handmade fabrics, tasting sweet desert fruits, vibrant with life. But today was not the day. Today she was worried, and heavy.
She understood that the weird energy source readings were a matter to take care of. Gippal was just trying to do the best for the world, as always. His naïveté was something which made her feel ashamed. Because her idealism and positive thinking died a long time ago, on the deck of the airship where everything linked to Sin was over, years ago.
The al bhed girl standing on that deck died back then. Now she was left with her old habits of hyper-activity and smiles, but that was all it was left of the Old Rikku. Deep inside, she felt a black hole growing each day more deep, chewing on her light. It wasn't Gippal's fault.
A tiny blond kid was crying in the boiling sun of midday. His mother, a tall woman with leather garments, did not finch for a second. He was looking at the persimmons, shiny on the vendor's table, tears in eyes. But he didn't ask for them, he didn't clench his mother's sleeve, imploring. He stood there, silently staring at the object of his desire. It was a crushing view for her.
She ran away.
Wantz was still laughing when he and Auron left the bar.
"Squared squire!"
"What event will you be attending tomorrow?"
Wantz stopped in his steps, "Oh! Yes! Right!"
Auron stopped as well. A young girl bumped into him and giggled with her girlfriend. Wantz showed him the certificate.
Bikanel. Trade Committee with the head of the Al Bhed. Auron was surprised, but at the same time he figured out that the scheme of destiny in which he was involved was just taking shape.
"Go to the Al Bhed, talk to their leader. The path is marked, but it won't be an easy one. You, my son, will fight again. Don't try to run from it, it will be to no avail. Not even for you." The words of the Water Goddess he met in the cave he was reborn in still resounded in his brain.
Wantz informed him that they were expected to arrive in Bikanel in two hours. Auron was surprised with how fast that would've been.
Airships. Auron wasn't so keen on the technology, but he had to admit the tactical advantage.
The Al Bhed leader was waiting for them, and he was about to give a purpose to his new life. Did he really want that? Why the Al Bhed? Was Cid still their leader or, after the Red Day (he found out, that's how they called the Guado Attack now that history washed the blood away) was he dismissed as a leader?
Curiosity was dancing around his brain.
The Al Bhed were a proud race. Losing everything just like that, after years and years of economical war perpetrated by Yevon, it must have been a harsh blow to them. He recalled Cid's face while he pressed the button which purposefully destroyed the last ruins of their metal Home. It was known that he and the man didn't particularly enjoy each other's presence, but right then he felt sorry for the bald man. Al Bhed were hard workers, and Spira's racist treatment had made everything harder on them. He was sorry.
The airship trip was as fast as promised. The air was getting warmer and warmer on the deck. Auron spent the whole trip filling his eyes with the oceans of Spira. He was anxious.
Flowery Inn was flooding with Al Bhed liquor and sailor's songs. Gippal, his forehead pressed against the wooden chipped table of the dirty tavern, was already wasted.
A pretty young girl was talking to him about something yellowy… chocobos? feathers? yellow… yellowwww!
He couldn't care less. It made him feel like shit. She was hot, too.
But she isn't Rikku, right?
Gippal banged his forehead against the table one more time, "Nooo! You are not! " he exclaimed, drunk.
The girl giggled.
Was she completely out of her mind? Here he was, being a douche for no apparent reason to her, and she! She was giggling! g!
Gippal wanted to cry!
"S-S-S-elene!" he called for the girl, who got nearer. Almost too near.
"Yes, Gippal?"
He forgot what he wanted to ask and glanced at her lips.
"Would you k-k-kiss me right now?" he asked.
She giggled again and nodded. Gippal smiled at her, drooling on the already dirty table. The girl stamped a kiss on his drooling lips.
Gippal stood still, eyes closed.
He thought of a certain sun kissed girl, with freckles on her nose bridge and a terrible smell of oil and strawberries. Rikku ...
Selene kept kissing his freezing lips. Gippal fell asleep.
When she trespassed Home's gates she was met with thousands of different voices calling for her attention, as usual. You're our leader, we need you. Please help us, we are poor. Please, fix this, fix that, make our lives better, guide us. Guide us. Guide us. Guide us.
Rikku's breath was short-lived, fast, her little heart thundering in her soft chest, asking for a way out. She ran, crooked, limping through the facility's corridors, looking for a safe place to crumble, until she felt she couldn't keep up the facade anymore. She slided on her knees against a metal wall, crouching against the cold pavement of the Home she and her father designed.
Hyperventilation was burning her lungs. Her eyes started to lose focus on the outer world. Her hands, cold and sweaty, were closed in tight fists against the wall. The heaviness of the world surrounding her was crushed on the nape of her neck, like an executioner's axe ready to cut her head off. It was unbearable.
I am dying. I am dying. I am dying.
It was then that she felt a deep voice, fishing her back from the abyss, to plant her feet on the ground once again.
"Are you alright?"
That voice brought a feeling of warmth and security, a blooming affection. She looked up. A man in a cloak, his face covered by a hood, was standing next to her. It was like a desert mirage. Rikku's breath was quick, her eyes watery, the tongue in her mouth heavy and dry, she couldn't reply.
"Rikku…" the man moved a hand towards her, but not quite close enough to touch her. I am here, it was saying.
She fainted, but before she closed her eyes a few words faintly escaped her lips… "Who are you?"
End of Chapter 5
Hello everybody! I am back back back again!
I know... it has been some time. Sorry. Truth to be told I am not completely satisfied with this chapter, and spent days and days re-reading it and so until I just couldn't!
IMPORTANT UPDATE! I decided to to make Auron old again. I mean, I changed the old chapters as well. I thought that young Auron wasn't the right choice for this kind of story. He lacked... conflict, in a way.
Lemme know what you think!