Final Fantasy X-2 and PlayStation are owned by Square Enix and Sony, respectively, meaning they do not belong to me. I am in no way, shape, and/or form claiming to be the owner/creator of these concepts, though I do claim any characters not apart of the original Final Fantasy X or X-2 storylines (such as Rayne and Michael) mine. As such, I would appreciate fellow authors and readers to give credit where credit is due and not steal any of my characters and/or concepts. Thank you, and have a pleasant day.
Oh, catharsis, my friend. Why is it I always seem to upset you in some way or another? n.n I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'm not a firm believer in happy endings, or beginnings at that. Too much happiness leads to bad writing; you have to have a good balance of the bad and the good. Besides, abandoning her child is one of Rayne's character flaws, an attempt to make her human. Do not worry, my friend! Thigns will turn out the way they should I promise! n.n
(Meet and Hate the Syndicate)
A year.
A full year Rayne waited at that temple, and nothing. Not a single sign from the fayth.
She had visited Bevelle on several occasions to check up in Michael, and wasn't too shocked to learn that he, like he had been in the womb, was subject to accelerated growth; at two months he looked six, and at eleven months he looked a five years and was speaking fluently in both Spiran and Al Bhed.
Repeated visits to the doctors had yielded no reason for this growth and no other information other than the fact that he was a healthy boy with the prime, fully functioning body of a five-year-old, despite the fact he was only eleven months.
Every time she went, she went under the guise of a Yevonite visiting for reason of a pilgrimage, and she never spoke to him.
Fereria was a constant source of information and encouragement, but, at that point, Rayne was too ashamed to even look her son in the eye, let alone confess that she was his mother.
She would never be able to make up for abandoning him like she did.
Fereria continuously insisted it was nothing more than postpartum depression and that Michael was mature beyond his years, mentally in this sense and not physically, and that he would probably gladly forgive her.
Still, Rayne saw the love Fereria felt for the boy and, though she, too, loved him, felt it was best that, for the time, she simply watch him grow from the sidelines.
That had been one month ago.
Now, it had been twelve months.
A full year since she had woken on the Farplane.
From passing, weary travelers she had sheltered, she learned about the surge of need from truth all over all of Spira, and the birth of New Yevon. She also deduced that she hadn't even been dead a week when Bahamut sent her back to the world of the living.
'Bastard.' Rayne thought as she worked over a small fire just outside of the temple, stirring furiously at a stew simmering in a pot over the flames, 'Can't even let me get at least a months rest before he calls on me! Hell, what does he care, anyway? He's got an eternity of rest to look forward too… that brat—'
Upon hearing a barrage of footsteps hit the ancient bridge before her and echo nosily down into the abyss below, Rayne looked up from her dinner, blinking.
Walking towards her was a trio; a woman and two men. The woman was wearing a rather revealing pink dress and sported shortly cut blonde hair. The two men wore purple and blue garb decorated with white Yevon letters; one was tall and lanky with two pistols at his sides and the other was short and… rotund, with what appeared to be a giant shield strapped to his back.
As they approached, Rayne reached up and tugged her high collar so it concealed more of her face and pulled her hat down low before returning to stirring her stew, keeping her eyes on the three the whole time.
They came to a stop in front of her and stared, not saying a word.
After a moment, Rayne raised her head slightly and asked, "Can I help you?"
"Some of that soup." The woman said, her eyes on the pot.
Rayne quirked a brow, "I beg your pardon?"
"Are you daft?" The woman sneered, "I told you to serve me some of that soup!"
Rayne stared at the woman for a moment silently, then drew in a deep breath and stood, glaring and growling, "Young lady, I am far too old to be dealing with impertinent young brats such as yourself, but if it gets right down to it I still have enough skills to kick your scrawny pale ass harder than you can even imagine. Do not tempt me."
Incensed, the woman ignored the protests the two men directed at her and stalked forward, pulling a tessen out of her sleeve and raising it over her head.
When the fan swung down, Rayne easily dodged it by stepping to the side, resulting in the younger woman losing her balance and tripping over the small pot and fire that had stood between them.
Rayne doused the fire thoroughly before the young woman burned herself, but left the stew hot.
The woman screamed and rolled over, the hot soup leaving an angry red mark on the whole of the flesh she left bare of her dress.
"Boss!" The two men shouted in unison, running forward and kneeling beside her.
"St-stop that!" The woman screamed, flailing her arms when they tried to help her only to result in further injuring her irritated skin. "That hurts, your morons!"
Sighing and rolling her eyes, Rayne crossed her arms and took in the trio's disheveled state. The two men were cut and bleeding in several places, their Yevon-esk robes singed at the hems. The woman, herself, sported a nasty gash on her revealed right hip, making Rayne take a moment to wonder what had happened to them.
'Probably got their inexperienced asses kicked on the Calm Lands.' "Move." Rayne ordered, stepping forward and brushing past the two men. She then took the younger woman by the arm and pulled her to her feet, "Come with me; I'll take care of it." She glanced between the tall and short men, then asked, "Spare those sashes you have around your waists?"
After hesitating a moment, the men removed said sashes and handed them to Rayne. She took them, then took the woman by the arm and drug her into the temple, glancing over her shoulder once to make sure the men hadn't followed.
"Strip." Rayne said as the door shut behind them
"W-what?!" The woman screamed, scandalized.
Rayne rolled her eyes and growled, "Girl, not only have you nothing I haven't seen, you can hardly be so insulted when you already insult yourself by leaving so little to the imagination. Now, strip so I can get a better look at that wound, unless you want me to call your friends in here to restrain you."
The woman was out of her dress in a moment, crossing her arms over her chest sulkily and pouting.
"Your fault for not wearing a bra, now lower your arms." Rayne snapped, taking a moment to assess the burn.
It started at the collar bone and ended just below the navel, shaped in the long, low V that her dress had revealed. Rayne could already tell it would blister severely if not taken care of.
"Let me see that fan." Rayne said after a moment, checking the edge of the weapon once she had it in her hands to make sure the metal blades were sharp enough. "I'll have to peel off that top layer of skin before we can do anything else, so I suggest you bite down on a corner of your dress so you don't hurt your jaws from clenching tightly when you try not to scream."
"I-I've changed my mind!" The woman said suddenly, jumping to her feet and reaching out for her dress, only to have Rayne bat her hand away.
"You barged into my home, insulted me, wasted my food, and now you're refusing my help?" Rayne growled, "Did your parents teach you no decency? How much trouble are you going to heap on me in one sitting?" She paused, then went on, "That needs to be taken care of before it blisters, because then it'll be an even bigger bitch to handle and you won't be able to do anything that involves moving the front of your body for several weeks. Just sit and we'll get this over with."
The woman hesitated, then sat, taking Rayne's advice and biting down on a wad of the sleeve on her dress.
Rayne raised the tessen and touched the length of one of the bladed edges against the already puffing skin just below the woman's throat.
"I'll be quick." She promised mere seconds before she drug the blade down, quickly removing the top several layers of skin and wincing slightly when the flesh squelched and blood serum splashed onto the floor.
The woman winced and whimpered, the muscles in her jaw straining visibly as she clenched her jaw and clamped her eyes shut against the pain.
Rayne then pulled out a Potion and dribbled it down the woman's front, smirking, "Maybe next time you'll think about leaving that much of your chest bare, eh?"
The woman just opened her watering eyes and glared in response.
When the Potion bottle was spent, Rayne sat back and sorted out the clothes from both the woman and the men, jerking the dress out of the young woman's mouth and tossing it aside.
"Use one of these sashes as a top and the other as a bottom." Rayne ordered, throwing the two pieces of material at the woman before standing and removing her own cloak, "Then wrap yourself up in this."
They walked outside a moment later, the woman wrapped tightly and sulking and Rayne carrying the soiled light purple dress.
"Boss!" The fat man gasped, taking a step forward.
"Leave me alone, idiot!" The woman snapped.
Rayne rolled her eyes, then sat in beside the remains of her fire and dinner and said, "Do you still want to eat?"
The three stared at her, then sat.
Rayne gathered the firewood in her arms, and then flicked her wrist, casting a small 'Water' spell and washed away the remains of the soup and ashes. A quick 'Fire' spell dried the area enough for her to set the wood down and reignite it with a second 'Fire'. She righted the pot, refilled it with a 'Water', then reached into a bag on the staircase behind her and pulled out meat, vegetables, and a few sparse seasonings she had found around Remiem.
While the food cooked, she stood and flung the dress over the nearby railing and hit it with a jet of 'Water', asking as she worked, "So, who're you three?"
"…Leblanc." The woman answered after a moment.
"Logos." The tall man answered.
"Ormi." The rotund man answered.
"There now," Rayne cooed, smirking, "That wasn't so hard, was it?"
"Hold it!" Leblanc frowned, "You didn't tell us your name!"
"It's rude to ask for a host to reveal personal information." Rayne said as she sat back down by the fire, leaving the dress to dry.
"It's also rude to not give your guests a name by which they can thank their host." Logos retaliated.
"Oh, smart, aren't you?" Rayne laughed, "Well, at least I can muster a bit of courtesy and civility when someone does me a favor."
The trio said nothing.
When the soup was simmering and a fine, fragrant steam was rising from it, Rayne pulled out a spoon and took a taste, paused, then took a full spoonful and ate it before handing the spoon to Leblanc. "Dig in."
Leblanc wrinkled her nose, "You're joking."
Rayne quirked an unseen brow but mocked with hearable censure, "Well, if you wanted a bit of privacy about your food, you should have brought your own bowls and spoons. I, however, live on my own in an abandoned temple, and thus worry little about sharing with others."
After staring at the older woman for a moment, Leblanc reached out and took the spoon, wiping it thoroughly on the sash around her waist before taking a spoonful from the pot.
As supper progressed and the sun sank, Rayne saw less and less reason to wear her hat a removed it, hoping that the little sun that was left and the flickering firelight would not be enough for any of the three to recognize her by, if they even knew who 'Lady Rayne' was.
Unfortunately, she had no such luck.
"Lady Rayne…" Logos muttered, his thin eyes widening.
"Whudja say?" Ormi asked through a mouthful of stew.
Leblanc snarled, "Chew with your mouth shut!" But now she, too, was looking at Rayne with renewed interest.
Rayne just crossed her arms and closed her eyes.
"You are the Lady Rayne, right?" Logos went on, "The same Lady Rayne who assisted the High Summoner Lady Yuna in vanquishing Sin a year ago, bringing about the Eternal Calm?"
"Is that what they've chosen to call this age?" Rayne muttered, not opening her eyes and chastising herself for taking her hat off. 'Of course one of the men would recognize me! They're former Yevonites!'
"Then you are her! People have thought you dead this whole time, but here you are!" Logos was absolutely enthralled and shocked at this point, his cool demeanor fading, "Why are you in hiding?"
"I'm not in hiding." Rayne snapped, glaring at him though a slit eye, "'Lady Rayne' is dead. I am Rayne, hermit of the Calm Lands and self-appointed Keeper of Remiem Temple. Nothing more and nothing less."
"Is that so?" Leblanc asked smoothly, leaning forward and smirking.
Rayne glared at her, "You know, I could have cut your breasts off."
The young woman, though, wasn't fazed, "Does your old summoning party know you're alive?"
"It matters not." Rayne muttered, closing her eyes again, "I am dead to the world."
"So they don't know." Leblanc was silent for a moment, then leaned back and said haughtily, "You know, the world's changed a lot since the last time you were seen. Things don't run the way they used to."
"I can imagine." Grumbling, Rayne was beginning to wonder if anyone would notice of Leblanc and her allies… disappeared.
"Take the old Sphere Grids, for example." Leblanc went on, ignoring Rayne's previous statement, "I bet you still think it's usable, right?"
"It is," Rayne frowned, opening her eyes, "Otherwise, how would I be able to use magic?"
"That's your default." Leblanc waved her off, "Everyone was born or trained with a default back when Sphere Grids were still used. These days, though, everyone uses Garment Grids."
"Garment Grids?" Rayne muttered, frowning down at the tablet Leblanc handed her. It had the same look as the Sphere Grids, but was much… simpler. "Where are the nodes for ability spheres? And the mana, power, and speed spheres?"
"Those are obsolete." Leblanc waved a hand airily, "All you really need is a dressphere. Your stats improve automatically when you level up."
"Dressphere?" A hand reached out and pointed to a glowing node with a picture of a dice on it.
"This," Leblanc narrated, "Is a dressphere. There are many different kinds, and each accesses a different class. This one, in particular, is the 'Lady Luck' dressphere. It's the one I have on."
"And stats rise automatically now, you say? No more ability points?"
"Nope, no more of that hassle." Leblanc said with an arrogant tone, "Just possessing a Garment Grid means that your stats will automatically raise when you level up, which is now based on the experience you earn in battle. Experience has taken the place of ability points."
"This…" Rayne began, her grip tightening on the stone tablet, "Means that any idiot with one of these 'Garment Grids' can fight in battle!"
"Yeah, isn't it great?" Leblanc asked airily.
"Hell no!" Rayne roared, shutting the younger woman up, "Did you not hear what I said?! Any idiot with one of these grids can fight in battle! That means if a kid gets a hold of one of these, they automatically have a gun or a sword in their hands!"
Leblanc stared at her for a moment, then leaned back on her hands and said, "You might want to think about getting one. You won't win any more of those old spheres from fiends in battle; they've all been gathered and sold or lost and forgotten."
"Screw that." Rayne growled, tossing the grid back to Leblanc, "I'm happy as I am. And, besides, if this 'experience' has no choice but to manifest itself as ability points, then it will. And as for spheres, I've got plenty of them stocked away safely."
Leblanc straightened at this, her eyes shining, but she quickly relaxed again and said, "If you say so!" The shine in her eyes, though, didn't die.
Unfortunately for Rayne, she was too busy glaring at the fire to notice the devious looks Leblanc, Logos and Ormi exchanged.
'Spira's changed, alright. And it's gone straight to hell.' Snarling, she cracked her fingers and narrowed her eyes, 'Seriously! The Sphere Grid system has been around since Zanarkand, a thousand years ago! And now it only takes one year to completely dissolve the entirety of that complex system and replace it with… with dress up?!'
When the sun was completely set and the stars were out, Rayne stood and sighed, "If you decide to stay tonight, feel free to sleep in the temple, but be warned that there aren't any beds. If you leave, I advise that you tell no one of my existence or I will be forced to hunt you down and kill you." She glared at the three pointedly, "And I mean it. Don't think that just because I haven't left this valley much in the past year it automatically means I won't travel in public to find you, because I will if it's necessary."
"No need to worry," Leblanc said, removing Rayne's cloak and handing it back with a smile, "You're secret's safe with us."
Rayne narrowed her eyes in suspicion at the sudden sweetness that Leblanc's voice held, then brushed it off and walked back into the temple. In the Chamber of the Fayth, she knelt before the fayth stone of the Magus Sisters and lowered her head in prayer.
"Please, guide me and tell me what exactly it is I am supposed to do here."
As with every other night she had spent doing this for the last year, nothing happened. She knew it wouldn't; the fayth stone had long since expired, like every other fayth stone in Spira, but still, she couldn't help hoping.
After a five minute wait, Rayne crawled a few feet away from the stone and folded her cloak, using it as a pillow as she lay down.
One thing that hadn't changed about Remiem was the warmth of the Chamber, and within no time she was asleep.
Three minutes before midnight, Leblanc, Logos and Ormi snuck into the Camber, digging through several bags Rayne had scattered about. Logos was the one who found the bag of spheres, and when he had he signaled to the others and they slipped away into the night.
As one would predict, Rayne was pissed the following morning.