Love Her and Despair Remaster [29]
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auronluChapter 29: "Via Purifico"
Final Fantasy X/X-2
Characters: Auron, Isaaru, Maroda, Pacce, Shuyin, Sin
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1800
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The Story So Far: Maroda and Auron have fallen in the fight against Shuyin. It's up to Paine, Elma and Isaaru to vanquish him now.
"Lulu's Garden" by cirruscastle
Vegnagun had vanished, taking with it almost all light and sound. Two distant splashes offered bleak testimony to ears that strained to hear. The only remaining illumination came from the elevator's lights and a swarm of pyreflies, drifting hungrily towards the remaining combatants.
The fight had ebbed but not ended. With Elma's help, Juno had finally pinned Pacce to the deck, kneeling on him with the shaft of Maroda's spear laid across his throat. Elma had seized his shoulders. He fought back in a snarling frenzy, thrashing and biting their arms. Nooj was crawling towards them on hands and knees. He balked at the edge of the pyrefly cloud, took a deep breath and waded in.
On the far end of the bridge, Isaaru kept vigil. Weeping as he prayed, he was dancing for both the fallen and the foe.
Shuyin's madness was spreading. Juno was bearing down her full weight on Pacce's throat, choking him. With a startled "Hey!" Elma released him to intervene. She wound up grabbing Juno's helm, twisting it like a cork. Pacce redoubled his efforts, writhing and twisting and flailing at their eyes with fingers curled into claws. All three were sucking in pyreflies with every breath.
"Don't listen." Nooj had reached them now. "Elma. Juno. Focus. Think of something you love. Shuyin's trying to control you."
Elma let go with a gasp. "Son of a—!"
Her oath was cut short by Junob punching her in the face. She crumpled with a yelp, clapping her hands over her nose.
Taking advantage of their distraction, Shuyin gave a violent heave and broke free. Pyreflies streamed from his shoulders as he snatched up his sword and charged towards Isaaru.
"Dammit!" Cupping her nose with one hand, Elma grabbed at empty air. "Sir! Watch out!"
For a moment Isaaru seemed unaware, twirling in a sluggish dance that mimicked the lazy arcs of the pyreflies. Then he raised his hand. "In Yevon's name," he said with strained conviction, "You will release my brother. Begone. You have no place in Spira!"
Pacce stumbled, hunkering down with fists clenched and head lowered. "Yevon? That old conjurer won't help you." He took another step forward. "You've been praying to a lie, summoner."
Juno rose silently and stalked him, poised to spring.
"Faith is no lie." Isaaru drew dignity about himself like a cloak and began to dance again, wet cheeks gleaming under the pyreflies. "What kind of a man were you, Shuyin, that you would destroy the world for love?" His voice rose and fell, swinging between bitter anger and quiet, gentle sorrow. "What kind of a woman was Lenne, to deserve such a memorial? Would she take joy in causing a lover's betrayal? Daughter's blood on father's hands? Brother turned against brother? Was Lenne such a monster, to condone such cruelty?"
"No!" Pacce was trembling now, barely struggling when Juno clamped onto his wrist and twisted his sword-arm behind him. Pyreflies boiled upwards from both of them like clouds of steam.
"Yes, you can, kiddo." Elma sat up, still covering her face with her hand. "Nobody could fight Shuyin alone: not Elder Cid, not anybody. It wasn't your fault you couldn't. But Isaaru's here now. He's the best summoner around, eh? He can kick this guy's ass."
A luminous form began to emerge from Pacce's body: taller, leaner, older, a golden figure advancing on Isaaru with drawn sword. Shuyin was growing more transparent with every step, but still he came.
Juno wrenched the sword away and started forward, although the battle was squarely in the summoner's hands now. But before she could overtake Shuyin, a second glowing figure coalesced in front of Isaaru. A slender woman stood there with arms outstretched, barring Shuyin's path. Her clothes were of a style unknown to them, a short ruffled dress of sparkling blue.
"You must stop!" she said.
"Lenne?" Shuyin froze. "Lenne. Is it really you?"
"You called me, Shuyin. I am here."
"But I searched. I searched for so long—"
"Shuyin, it's time to rest. Leave vengeance to the Lady."
Isaaru, still performing the sending dance, lost a step to astonishment. He stared doubtfully at the pyreflies cloaking the woman, wafting up from below. Something enormous rumbled down there in the depths, a hair-raising groan at the edge of hearing.
"They deserve it," Shuyin said. "They—"
"I wrote a song for you, Shuyin." She stepped forward, drawing him into her arms. "Maybe you've heard it. Listen." Soft and low, she began to purr into his ear. "Ieyui nobomeno..."
Pyreflies converged on the pair as they embraced. Unearthly cries on the edge of hearing merged into the Hymn of the Fayth. The lovers faded one spirit-light at a time, waning into darkness. Isaaru brought his hands together to seal the ritual and fell to his knees.
Hurrying over, Juno offered him a hand up with a gruff, "Isaaru, I'm sorry."
Pacce was sobbing on Elma's shoulder. As Isaaru started towards him, a dim shape of light and shadow caught his attention. Another figure stood where Shuyin and Lenne had been a moment before, head bowed, hands folded. This woman had fuller curves, darker hair, bone-pale skin, a long black gown that fell to her feet.
"Milady?" he said.
The stranger raised a finger to her lips, then turned and glided away, pyreflies in her train. The others seemed oblivious to her presence. Isaaru gave a cry when she reached Pacce and planted a light kiss on his forehead. Then she was gone.
Auron awoke on black sand. His eyes were closed, but he recognized where he lay. Those coarse, glassy grains radiated sunlight like a furnace, burning anyone foolish enough to dare the beach in bare feet. A whiff of sulfur told him that he was home, truly home, lying at the foot of crags weathered red by rain. The voice of waterfalls and pounding surf met together on the toes of old lava. He had forgotten that sound. The burdens of the past forty-five years had eclipsed memories of childhood. But now the intervening time had slipped away from him, and this was all he had left.
Fire and water had fought here, spawned burgeoning life in the fertile volcanic soil. A fatalistic people had made the volcano their goddess for centuries, content with what she gave them, enduring when she took back the gift. But Sin had finally put an end to their covenant. The few survivors had fled to Yevon, some adopting other islands, a handful reaching the mainland. They still bore marks that set them apart, although Yevon had stamped out the lore behind the signs: eyes the color of old lava, black hair that turned ashen gray, sometimes even in youth.
He had returned home only once during warrior monk's training, fighting fiends that might have been his kin.
He could no longer remember the island's name. Then again, he could no longer remember his own.
One odor did not fit: a hint of lilac. Someone was bustling about him, composing his limbs in the manner of portraits on old Crusader coffins. His hands were crossed over the hilt of his sword, laid lengthwise along his body. His faithful jug of nog was placed at his feet. Thorny brambles prickled his bare arm. His head rested against a boulder of basalt.
Close by his ears came a crackling, sizzling sound like red-hot metal splitting stone.
Auron reached back blindly. His knuckles scraped the headstone. The searing heat that was etching its surface scorched his palm. Pain jarred him fully awake.
"You'd give up on me?" he snarled.
Agony eased as a layer of ice flowed over the fresh brand. "Never in a thousand years, Auron. But I do not hold you to your oaths. You do."
Auron sat up, becoming aware of every aching, bleeding limb, countless breaks and fragments of bone within. The rich greens, reds and blacks of his birthplace faded away. He found himself back in Sin's garden, the ghost of Djose's shore. The only trace of his childhood home was the spray of ohia berries spilling over the black pillow of lava behind him, its surface unmarked. All around him stretched Lulu's overgrown bower: roses and Macalania trees, orchids and moon lilies, driftwood and skulls and the endless teeth of tombstones.
He glanced down at his hand. It was branded with two glyphs, the signs of his own name. "Thanks."
"You almost forgot yourself. That young man—"
"Was it Tidus?"
"No. An angry echo of an ancient war. Or rather... Tidus was the echo. Perhaps Lenne's love graced him with more nobility than the man he mirrored."
"Zanarkand." The word was a curse and a dismissal.
"Yes. Zanarkand." Her voice sharpened. "Yu Yevon is very curious what is going on in Bevelle."
"More echoes. We may have an answer for you, Lulu."
Her breath caught. "You have a surprise for me? How thoughtful!" Coquettish speech was foreign to her; the implicit warning was clear.
Auron had been struggling to avoid looking at her. Lulu remained a precipice, and his grip on himself was tenuous at best just now. But her indrawn breath drew his attention.
"Lulu!"
The brambles had begun to grow around her arms, her neck, intertwining with her braids and belts. There were too many of them. As he took hold of the briar tightening around her throat, it transformed into barbed metal, digging into her skin. She averted her eyes, abandoning the pretense of speech. I think you had better go. Her lips twisted into an impish smile. I believe I may have annoyed him.
Auron growled in frustration. "Don't take risks, Lulu. Put me down."
Another belt was unfurling across her face, covering her eyes. Are you sure you want to go on? Others can write my story, you know.
"No," he said to both statements. "Lulu, hurry."
Very well. Soft lips brushed his cheek.
The vision of Sin's garden tore like cobwebs, catapulting him back into a body that was screaming with pain in so many places he barely noticed his burnt hand. He found himself lying in a shallow, stinking puddle at the mouth of a sewage pipe. Blood stained the fetid water the color of rust. Quiet drizzle was falling upon the smoldering city in the gray dawn.
As he groaned and rolled over, her voice came to him in the susurrus of rain. I'll see you soon, Auron. Tell Zaon when you're ready.
Next Chapter: "Yuna's Cloister"
Author's Notes
Meta: Considering the glimpses of the dead Crusaders inside Sin after Operation Mi'ihen, and Auron's explanation for how he reached Zanarkand, it seems clear to me that Sin can ferry the dead.
Artist: cumuluscastle painted this amazing watercolor of "Lulu's Garden" many years ago. It was originally an illustration for the "How Does Her Garden Grow?" chapter, but Mintywolf did such a gorgeous illustration of Lulu and Auron walking together in that same scene that I moved "Lulu's Garden" here.
Chapter notes: Originally Chapter 33, posted August 2009.
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Date: 2019-06-29 02:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-06-30 03:06 am (UTC)