So, I Lied
Disclaimer: I don't own Rikku, or Final Fantasy X/X-2.
Summary: Contemplations of Rain.
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They were asleep. That was a good thing she guessed. They needed it, if they were going to get to Zanarkand. Rikku stood in the rain and laughed. Rain, a symbol of purity, washing away sins. Thunder struck and she just stood there, glassy eyes staring up into the sky. She'd lied you know. About the Lightning, about the Thunder. But she couldn't tell him the real reason, not with the others standing there, listening, though they pretended not to. He knew why, when he heard her singing in the rain. But it's not like all of them knew she was Al-Bhed, not like all of them saw the terror in her eyes when she'd first met them, first whispered, "You're not an Al-Bhed hater, are you?"
It was all too easy to remember the sounds of guns firing in Zanarkand, the boom of thunder and whistle of celebration rockets, the loud cracking sound as they pierced walls and sheilds and people. The flashes of light that made them easy to see, even in the pitch black of night. The knowledge that that flash of light, that penetrating retort of a hammer cocking back and slamming into a bullet, the explosion as packed gunpowder sent a bullet screaming from a barrel, could be the last thing you ever heard, ever saw. He'd noticed, the way she ducked upon hearing thunder, rather than dodging, as if the lightning would shoot across the plain, rather than striking from above.
He may seem ignorant of things in Spira, but he'd also never been there before. He may live in the moment, but with gangs and crimes abound in the city that never sleeps, death around every corner, who wouldn't? He knew people though, he was a Blitzball Ace, but he didn't get there by not being able to read people, being able to predict their movements. He attributed the sadness that permeated the group he traveled with to Sin, but as the journey wore on, it became clearer and clearer that, that wasn't it. He could see more than sadness in Rikku's eyes though, and terror more than the fear of Sin.
So, he'd asked her, and she told him. Of the ongoing war between Yevon and Al-Bhed. The men who used guns, though it was against their religion. The women who'd screamed upon being defiled, as their families watched. The children thrown into water, as Thundaga struck. The homes set on fire, as hovercrafts filled with people exploded. The holo-clips, holo-braclets, holo-necklaces, that were common amongst the Al-Bhed, turnning them brunette and brown-eyed as they scattered in fear. The hunt, the mission, the codes and secret words they used to try and gather together once more, the bloody failures they'd had.
The name carved in flesh and blood her father had made amongst their people. Maytan, Leader. Cid Nol'Cid of one of the five remaining royal houses, the house of Nal'Cid. The pedestal where one girl would ascend, and, baptized in blood and pain, become their queen.
She told him the naievete of the masses, ignorant of the true face of Yevon. The Al-Bhed slaves forced to build Bevelle Palace. The reason why, while others could convert, would be welcomed into the many layers and folds of the skirts of Yevon, the Al-Bhed would forever be outcast. And yes, she said Yevon had skirts. "Did you really think they wore those robes for their health?"
He'd laughed, said he never really thought of it that way. She'd smiled, said she never stopped thinking.
So, when morning came, they questioned her about her fears, brought them all up to the surface once more. She shook, she trembled, they asked him about what she'd said.
So, I lied.
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A.N: Introspection on the fact that she kept ducking in the Thunder Plains, rather than running for cover. Meh, I think too much.
