Love Her and Despair (12)

[auronlu]

Title: Love Her and Despair
Chapter 12: "Memorial Gardens"
Final Fantasy X
Characters: Isaaru, Maroda, Auron, Pacce, Elma, Luzzu
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1600
Summary: Conversations on the road to Djose.
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Map of Pilgrimage - Links to All Chapters

Our Story So Far: Thirteen years after Yuna falls in the Final Summoning, Auron has joined Isaaru on a new pilgrimage. A Cult of Sin has arisen, partly due to visions of a Lady seen by those touched by Sin's toxin, partly due to the new Sin's power over the weather. Heading to Djose Temple, Isaaru and his escorts reach the most famous of Sin's "gardens."

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Three days out from Luca, they were approaching the turnoff to Mushroom Ridge as the last bars of sunset faded from the sky. The Highroad had once been a beaten shelf of dirt exposed to the elements and scoured by the wind, but now berms or seawalls shielded it on the seaward side. Out of sight, leaden waves sighed and grumbled against the rocks. Ahead, a finger from the cliffs above arced down over the road to form a flying buttress. Beyond it, the land was transformed.

It was difficult to make out individual shapes in the dusk, but swaying dark fronds draped over the arch in a lush curtain, with nodding white flowers as wide as a woman's hand winking between tendrils and broad leaves. A profusion of plants carpeted the path below, crushed or snapped by the passing prints of travellers, despite which they seemed to thrive: blue blossoms from Besaid and the coral-pink orchids of Kilika, ivy and hibiscus, lilies and irises, even the glassy trunk of a Macalania sapling with glowing seed-pods in the forks of slender stems.

"Yevon," Isaaru breathed, reining his chocobo to a halt and gazing up at the floral tapestry in wonder. "What enchantment is this?"

"Nobody knows," Elma said. "Good thing it's so remote. Even so, we have to rescue a few tourists from fiends every month. They forget the danger. Speaking of which, be on your guard. Those vines can hide a full-sized iguion. Nasty buggers— their bite can paralyze. We try to keep the path clear up to the lodge, but the plants grow back fast."

She turned into a narrow cleft in the cliff-face which widened into a ravine. Sentries drew back spears and saluted as they passed.

As promised, the path was mostly cleared, but creeping vegetation spilled over the lumps and crags of the cliffs on either side. Sea-fog had collected on rocky shelves and dimples along the edges of the winding track. The larger basins had mats of dark-green pads with pale flowers illuminating the shadowy ravine. Glowing wisps of pyreflies spiraled up from their fragrant blossoms.

"I don't believe it," Isaaru said. "Moon-lilies! I thought they were unique to the Moonflow."

"Well, it rains here fairly often now." Elma spoke in a hushed voice. "Folks say it's Sin's doing. Who knows?"

"They're so pretty," Pacce said, turning to gawk as they passed a ledge overflowing with white blossoms.

"Keep your eyes open, Pacce," Maroda said. "Remember what the commander told you. Macalania's pretty too, and it's got chimeras."

They jogged along in silence, going at a slower pace now so that those riders who did not know the way wouldn't steer their mounts over a precipitous drop by accident. Rustlings in the undergrowth kept them wary. Fortunately, the group was large enough to give the fiends pause, or else the Crusader patrols had been through recently to clear a way for their VIP guests.

As they penetrated deeper into the canyon, they began to pass cleared patches on the walls where registers of names had been carved into the cliffs. Here the vegetation was sparser, but delicate ferns and stonecrop tumbled down over the inscriptions. Isaaru bent in his saddle and cupped his hands in Yevon's prayer. Maroda and Pacce, unusually solemn, followed his example.

Auron bowed his head, although he did not pray. He noticed a white vein of quartz cutting through a pair of glyphs that might read Gatta.

Mushroom Rock's iguions were a personal pet peeve. The lizards' speed had always given him trouble. However, they were not the only menace in these parts. Auron felt his hair ruffled by a gust of wind from above, bellowed "Down!" before he remembered why, and rolled from the saddle as two huge claws came down out of the gloom to rake his mount's shoulders. The chocobo shrieked, thrashed in a flurry of feathers and blood, and bolted. To his annoyance, Auron found his left foot caught in the stirrup.

His sword was out of reach, its sheath lashed to the saddlebags. He was dragged a dozen yards before his flailing fingers closed over the hilt. A black crevasse yawned under him. Cries and shouts were erupting behind him. He felt the air pulse with the forceful beat of a garuda's wings.

Bumping and bashing against the chocobo's flank, Auron's patience had run out. He swung the sword around for an awkward blow, striking the neck and a vital artery. It wasn't a clean kill, but it sufficed. Auron leapt free as the wretched bird, jerking in its death-throes, tumbled over the edge.

He would have to apologize to Elma later. These Djose Knights took their birds seriously. Staggering on legs stiffened by a day's ride, Auron turned and charged back towards the fray.

Overkill, really. Four fighters — three of Elma's knights were herding a protesting Isaaru out of harm's way — were more than enough to handle a garuda. They would probably have made short work of it. Auron, however, was tired, stiff, and eager to press on. He barreled in from one side, raised the sword high, and threw all his momentum behind a scything blow to the neck. The blade was nearly wrenched out of of his hands. Standard Crusader issue could not shear through bone and spine like his old sword. Nevertheless, it was enough to bring the garuda crashing down. As reward for his impatience, he was smothered under a heavy, leathery wing.

The fiend wasn't quite dead, but now it was an easy target. Maroda, Pacce, Elma and the other knight waded in to finish it off. Auron lay under the suffocating weight and hoped that no one passed a spear through him. A few moments later, the fiend dissolved into pyreflies.

Pacce crouched at his side. "You okay, Sir Auron?"

"Fine," he said, standing and wiping bloody feathers off his coat. Forestalling an awkward conversation, he added, "My chocobo didn't fare as well. I think it fell." He gestured towards the edge of the crevasse.

"Damn," Elma said. "That's one of Clasko's chicks. Lord Isaaru, are you all right?"

"Perfectly, Commander," Isaaru called, voice echoing around the last bend. "But one of your knights is not. I will tend her." There was a blue shimmer off the walls as they trooped back to find a circle of chocobos and knights fencing the summoner and prone rider. The unconscious soldier groaned, stirred, and sat up groggily.

"All right, let's move before anything else pops out looking for dinner," Elma said. "Sir Auron, if you'd care to—"

"I'll walk," he said. "I remember the way."

"Hm." Elma gave him a skeptical look. "Suit yourself."

He might not have been so eager to have ditched the bird, Auron reflected a short time later, had he realized the Al Bhed lift had been replaced with switchbacks.

After a steep climb, they emerged onto a wide shelf sweeping around to the promontory overlooking the bay. A fierce wind off the ocean scoured their cheeks with salt. Blue lightning wavered in the distance, outlining the temple's cliffs on the opposite side of the bay. Somewhere out there in the dark, where breakers crashed on a lonely beach below the bluff, a generation of Crusaders had met their deaths in a hopeless campaign against Sin.

Elma turned away from the ocean towards lanterns planted on pillars around the sprawling Crusader camp on Mushroom Ridge. A clamor of voices and smith's hammers spoke of preparations for the coming battle. As they dismounted, a tall red-haired man emerged from the camp's gates and marched towards them. More Crusaders hurried to keep up with his long stride, fanning out to take the chocobos' reins and lead them away.

"Lord Isaaru." Luzzu drew his fist to his chest. "Commander Elma. Captain Maroda. Welcome. We have quarters prepared and supper waiting for you in the main lodge."

"You'd better. A garuda tried to make dinner of us back there," Elma said.

"I'm very sorry, ma'am. Orders said we were to pull in patrols for this operation. Does anyone require a healer?"

"It's taken care of, Captain," Isaaru said. "Don't worry. My guardians needed the exercise." He gestured towards Auron, who had just trudged into view. "Some more than others," he added with a chuckle.

"Is that…Sir Auron?" Luzzu stared hard at the white-haired guardian, then straightened and beckoned to the party. "Please, follow me. If you wish, Commander, we can review plans for the operation over your meal."

"Food first," Elma said. "Young Pacce here isn't used to a long day's march. He's only had warrior monk's training."

Auron paused outside the entrance to the camp and glanced down. There in the shadows was a delicate, ground-hugging variety of rose pounded into the dirt by foot traffic. Stooping, he found one intact blossom. Its color was impossible to guess; a patina of salt had painted it a ghostly white. Auron plucked it, tucked it into the blue beads dangling from his belt, and followed the others into camp.

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Next Chapter: She Hit Me Too

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Author's Notes

Meta: FFX in-game inscriptions were basically English words written in a funny font. Since both the Hymn of the Fayth and Japanese ↔ Al Bhed are syllable-based ciphers, I posit that in-universe, Spiran glyphs transcribe syllables, not letters, like Hiragana. (This will come up again later.)

Comments

[cumuluscastle.livejournal.com]

This garden of yours is entrancing. I like the idea especially when I think about the fact that The Macalania Woods are slowly being destroyed in FFX-2.

By the way, I forgot to mention that Isaaru's semi-archaic form of speech suits him and I'm glad you've managed a balance that is not too stiff.

I didn't think of those precipitous drops either! This garden suits Sin so well. It's gorgeous, but concealing all kinds of pitfalls and enemies.

Oh Auron enjoyed killing his chocobo too much I think. It would be one of Clasko's too. Hopefully he doesn't cry too much.

The fact that the lifts have been removed is an interesting point given all that's been happening with machina.

I like the gesture of the rose and the detail you provide about it. That's what interests me so much about your writing, you allow the imperfections of the 'real' world to show through. In another writer's hands that rose might have been blood red, or purple, to match Lulu's eyes or nail polish or something, but you've described a trampled rose bush with a rose discoloured by salt. I find that kind of description in your writing extremely refreshing.

[auronlu.livejournal.com]

I was a child of purple prose. I can't wean myself of it, so I try to add texture and nuances instead.

Isaaru's voice is something I studied with care— in fact, I pay very close attention to voices, which may explain why this FF hooked me so completely, despite the bad voice acting in some cases. I loved Isaaru's stately, slightly stilted and archaic manner, his habit of adding rhetorical "no?" at the end of his lines, and the seeping warmth in his voice. I also enjoyed the contrast between him and Maroda, who's so blunt, direct, and colloquial (the translation has "Geez!" at one point.)

I'm glad you're able to accept the garden, another outgrowth of the Mother Goddess aspect I've added to Sin/Lulu. I needed a reason for people to worship her (well, besides the fact that sailors under the toxin's influence see her buck-nekkid), a reason for some Spirans to think of her as a more appealling figure than Yevon. Also it just felt right. I'm loading the "Venus" angle heavily— the Roman Venus had more of a mother goddess/fertility aspect than Aphrodite— and taking a few liberties.

The lift was removed, really, because the only people who could replace it are the Al Bhed. Then again, why aren't they still working with the Crusaders— or are they?

The garden also fits the writing of this story. I had some secrets and hidden plot twists in mind when I started, but I had no idea what lay beneath the surface.

Before I began, I had an image of a harmonious New Yevon with all the maesters working together in enlightened cooperation, an idealized image of "getting it right, because they've learned their lesson." As if good people never make mistakes, or are never swayed by personal agendas, prejudices, blind spots, crusades.

The flawed rose is a good metaphor for the Spira I'm finding along the way. The maesters are trying to do better, but it's still Spira, they're still politicians, and old prejudices and habits of a culture don't vanish overnight once most thinking people recognize past errors, any more than racism or gas-guzzlers have vanished from the American landscape. Nor will all decent, good-hearted people agree.

[mintywolf]

It's kind of endearing to think of Sin having a hobby, haha. But I love the Goddess aspect of Lulu's new form, making the flowers grow here and I remember later bringing the rains to the Bikanel Desert so they can have vegetable gardens. It's very appropriate to her, because she could, even when she was human, be gentle and nurturing as well as cold and destructive. And the description of the garden was lovely. :)

Also, as a memorial garden, I notice that it's not just near where Operation Mi'ihen happened but also near where Chappu died.

Poor chocobo! :(

[auronlu]

Auron is terrible with chocobos in so many fanfics that I've taken it as fanon. He's a bastard sometimes.

And yes, she comes here to remember Chappu, as well as all the others she saw killed. Imagine having to watch Operation Mi'ihen when you're envisioning your own lover meeting the fate of the soldiers you see dying around you.

ANNNGST.