Love Her and Despair Remaster [46]

[auronlu]

Title: Love Her and Despair
Chapter 46: "The Houses of Healing"
Final Fantasy X/X-2
Characters: Auron/Lulu, Zuke, Rikku/Wakka
Rating: G
Word Count: 3200
Navigation: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Map/ToC

The Story So Far: Sin is defeated, its occupant freed, but being Sin for thirteen years is not something one can throw off in a day.

A day in St. Bevelle began with the ringing of many bells— yet too few, with gaps of silence where the Tower of Light should have boomed forth. A chilly sea-fog seeped between panes and under doors. Auron and Lulu rose and dressed in silence, exchanging ironic glances as the mage bundled into the shapeless gown of a novice nun. As the last peals died away, they slipped out, threading corridors where tardy acolytes scampered towards chapel. Those few who made eye contact were too tongue-tied to offer more than a reverent bow. None noticed that Yevon's prayer was not returned.

The cloister garden was cold, foggy and uninviting. A glimmer to the east showed where the sun would burn through. Dew lay heavy on leaf and stone. Above, invisible gulls wheeled and keened. Lulu halted at the edge of the grass and breathed in. Earth, flowers, herbs, and the homely scents of cooking from the refectory blended with the smell of the sea. Abruptly she kicked off her slippers, pressing her toes into wet earth. Loose hair flying behind her, she strode out onto the close-cropped lawn, wetting the hem of her gown. Concentric pathways between flowerbeds and rows of vegetables drew her on, taking her on a meandering tour of the garden. She stroked leaves and stems as she passed.

Auron took the straight path to the fountain and waited. A mental image came to him: Lulu in her dream-bower, an infinite cage, more verdant yet utterly barren for all its fruits and flowers, a cloister of trials for a failed guardian to pace for years without end.

At last she reached him, turning away from the fountain and gazing back at their footprints marching in parallel across the dew-silvered grass.

"Well, that hasn't changed, at least," Lulu said.

"No." He was watching her feet, not the ground. She had stumbled twice during her explorations. Unimportant, perhaps, but she had always been so sure-footed on their travels, inexplicably elsewhere whenever a foe's claw, fist or wing-tip swept towards her.

"What?" she said. He shrugged and nodded towards a freshly-pruned rosebush. "Hardly up to your standards."

She passed a hand over it. "I understand how it feels."

"Solid?" he suggested. "Real?"

"You know what I mean." The motion turned into an upswept gesture he should have recognized. "Catch."

He had only begun to move when the ice-spur nicked his ear. Rumbling, he caught her wrist, nodding at the rosebushes.

They moved to the open space on the other side of the fountain, amusing themselves with old drills. Lulu cast. Auron parried. He had to take care on his follow-through, checking swings that nearly clouted her. Suspicions confirmed: her judgment of distances was a little suspect, or else she was having to relearn the boundaries of her own body. To judge by her prim frown, she knew it. She would not stop dueling even when a stray chunk of ice struck Yuna's statue and deflected the fountain's spray, drenching both of them. Melting ice crunched underfoot, and the ground around the fountain grew muddy. Now and then a monk or nun, cutting through the cloister on errands, gave them an agitated look and a wide berth. At last the abbot himself emerged and made a beeline towards them. Auron touched Lulu's arm and straightened, planting his sword.

"Father Zuke." Lulu's hands made an abortive gesture, and she settled for folding her arms.

"Good morning," Zuke said, bowing. "I trust you both rested well? I missed you at morning prayers."

"Very well, Father," said Lulu, averting her gaze from Auron's complacent expression. 

"Excellent. Is there anything you need?"

Lulu passed a look towards Auron. "No, we are content."

"Anything you wish, then?" Zuke said. His manner was unpressing, but he was clearly fishing for something.

"I'd like to take up your offer of healing lessons, when you have the time."

"My time is never my own," said Zuke, "and therefore, my time is yours. You are, after all, my second-best student."

"Second-best?" she said over Auron's hmph.

"Isaaru learned all I know. You had your own notions of what mattered." Zuke's eyes twinkled. "So. Shall we remove to my office, to avoid interruptions? Sir Auron, would you like to observe?"

Auron shook his head. "Don't overdo it," he told her.

"Don't coddle."

As Lulu stepped onto the paved colonnade surrounding the garden, her feet nearly went out from under her on slick flagstones. Zuke looked down. His brows jerked upwards at the sight of her toes plastered with mud and grass. "I'm surprised to be telling you, of all people, to wipe your feet."

The mage laughed, an unrepentant sound that rippled across the cloisters. She dashed away the dirt with a water spell and followed him inside.

Auron took up his sword again and smiled.

Lessons were served over Zuke's excellent herbal tea. Lulu warmed her hands with the clay cup, listening to his lecture. Absently, she stirred the steaming liquid with a fingertip capped in ice.

Zuke faced her across his desk, gnarled hands steepled on a nest of papers. "Curing magic is most like watera, the inviting, the offering, the opening of channels to old rains that air and soil remember. You cannot force flesh to heal, bone to knit. You must rouse it, remind it of its proper form and shape. You must gather the energies of pyrefly-essence and with them— Lulu?" 

She scowled. "Pyreflies. That I can do."

"Can you, now?" He paused to shuffle scrolls and parchment, clearing away the space between them. She drained her cup, ignoring the dangling interrogative. Zuke shook his head and continued. "But life-energies are stronger than pyreflies, which can only reflect, sustain and magnify. And yet life is weaker— or rather, more delicate— than the elemental forces you command. For you tap time: you summon all the lightning strikes, all the rains, every frost, every wildfire whose memory is stored in the air and soil around you. Whereas life—"

"It is ephemeral," she interrupted. "But surely, the power of life is everywhere too, for most matter in Spira has been part of living flesh at some time."

"Yes. I think that may go a long way to explaining how pyreflies build the bodies of fiends. But each life is unique, and you can't graft one to another."

"No." She set the cup down with a clank, sloshing out the last few drops. "No, we can't."

Again, the crease-lines of care around his eyes deepened. He paused to refill her cup, setting it aside with his to cool. "So," he said, "we use pyreflies to cradle and concentrate a single life's frail pulse, as one shields and blows gently to kindle a spark into a blaze. White magic requires a gentle touch, supporting rather than commanding. Do you understand?"

"I think so." She refocused on him with a hint of warmth. "I've watched you and Yuna do it often enough."

"Hem, yes," he said, pained but pleased. "Well, then. I think we may proceed to the training sphere. It is easier to demonstrate on a real wound, or rather, its simulacrum. As I recall, you were always more relaxed when you need not fear casualties should your bolts go astray."

"I just didn't like anyone to see my failures, as well you know."

His eyes crinkled at her candor. "You have changed, my dear."

Taking a swirling blue sphere from a cabinet, he placed it with its stand on the table between them and settled his hands around the sphere's lower half.

"More than you know." She spread her fingers over the top.

The cramped, dim office vanished. The rug was replaced by an infinite plane of hard-packed gray earth, scored with a faint grid. What passed for sky was a mottled haze the color of ash. Zuke arrived first and stood waiting. Lulu stumbled into view with less than her usual poise, pyreflies eddying up from her feet like dust-motes.

He took a step towards her. "Lulu?"

Her form remained insubstantial, revealing the horizon through her body. The baggy white robes of Bevelle had been replaced by an elegant black gown, once tailored, now tattered. Its belts flowed out in a sweeping train that blurred into vines and creepers. The ground around her feet began to transform into sand, rocks, splintered bones. Pyreflies danced around her like drunken stars. 

"Lulu!"

Seeing his dismay, she looked down, flung up her arms as if to ward off the pyreflies, and blinked out. Zuke backed out of the dream-space as quickly as he could, nearly jostling the sphere off its base. He raised his eyes to find Lulu clutching her chair, jaw clenched. Zuke struggled to hold his voice level. "Steady, Lulu. Ground and center."

"It's all right." She straightened, chest heaving as she fought to bring her breathing under control. "I'm sorry, Father. I didn't realize I was so rusty. Let's try that again."

"I think not, my stubborn friend." He took up the sphere and placed it in a niche on the wall. "I must commend your determination. But this was a rash experiment. I have no business taking an untethered fayth into the training realm."

Her eyes flashed. "You know?"

"Not at all. I'm quite agog with ignorance." He gave a mirthless huff of laughter. "But I fear I can guess what, or rather, whom, Isaaru meant, when he declared that 'Sin's unwilling fayth' has been freed." Zuke flapped a hand abruptly. "Drink your tea."

"I'm not... untethered." She took up the clay cup and stared into its depths, as if trying to divine via her own reflection. "It…I…" She gestured at herself, a slashing motion that dismissed what it indicated. "There's no statue to house the Fayth of the Final Summoning, Father. Just flesh and bone. Mine. Sir Jecht's. Lady Lilith's. And all the other guardians whose High Summoners are commemorated with temple statues."

"The Final Summoning?" he said. Horror dawned in his eyes. "A guardian's soul? In Yevon's name, you mean to say that—"

Lulu exploded out of her chair, fists slamming against the desk. "Yevon made... me... Sin!" Her cup burst before it hit the floor.

Zuke recoiled. The room felt suddenly hot and dry. Lulu's hair lifted from her shoulders as if from static electricity. Swallowing, he reached across the desk to lay his papery hands over hers. Her fingers were too warm, her nails uncomfortably so. "Lulu. Daughter." His voice broke on that one word. "Listen to me. Whatever happened to pervert your fayth, you are not Sin now." 

The oppressive heat bled away. Her head drooped. She gave a mute squeeze of acknowledgement before pulling away and crossing her arms. "I'm not so sure of that."

"I am," he said. "Ill-tempered as ever, and you've come back with enough firepower to melt Gagazet, I'll be bound, but that's Lulu all over."

"Thanks a lot." She let out a chuckle that was half a whimper. "No, really. Thank you."

"The least I can do." He slumped back in his chair. "But I should have looked for you, when you did not return."

"No. You couldn't have reached me. No one could."

"Except Sir Auron, apparently," Zuke said. "Ah. Yes, of course."

"Auron." She spoke the name like a talisman. "Yes. Spira has no idea what he's suffered to free us."

"I suppose not," He watched her with wary pity. "Lulu. This wish to become a healer. Are you seeking atonement?"

"To what? In whose name? My victims are dead. Nothing can alter that. But Sir Auron and I must return to the Hall of the Final Summoning and end this, lest another follow in my footsteps. There is little in Zanarkand which can threaten us, but I must be prepared for that little. And—" Her expression softened. "As I told you, Father, I am tired of being only a destroyer."

"There are different routes to redemption." He sighed. "I could loan you a healer, you know. Doddering ex-summoners aside, there are many capable youngsters who would consider it an honor."

"And none I would risk."

"In that, too, you have not changed," Zuke said. "Well, my dear, I'm afraid you've taught me more today than I've taught you. A hard lesson for both of us. With your permission, I should like to consult the High Summoner on your… condition."

"No!" She drew a breath and forced herself to speak calmly. "No, thank you. I trust you, Father, but to me he is a stranger. And unlike you, he followed Bevelle's orders against Yuna."

"Very well." He rose and circled the desk to draw out her chair for her. "Although we are none of us who we were in those days. But I will think on this matter, and pray."

Returning to the garden, Lulu was too preoccupied to notice Auron until he fell into step beside her. "Well?"

"We'll need to restock your potions," she said, ruffled.

"Hey, Lu!" Wakka shouted from across the garden, now awash in sunshine. "Where you been, sleepyhead? I was just about to send out a search party."

"Father Zuke and I were having tea and a chat before you woke up. Just like the old days."

The cloisters had become more crowded in her absence. Gardeners shot scandalized glances at the children frolicking in the fountain, the younger two sans clothing. Shrieks of delight and a blitzball's tinny thump echoed through the cloister's galleries. The tension in Lulu's shoulders eased.

Rikku waved from a bench just out of splash range. "Watch out. I think there's fiends in the bushes."

Giggles erupted from the shrubbery. Yuna burst out and flew towards the mage with arms outstretched. Lulu bent and caught her hands. "I'm sorry, sweetling. You're too big for me to carry, as I am now."

"Awww."

Without breaking stride, Auron scooped both of them onto the nearest bench. Lulu, giving him a reproachful look, attempted to smooth her skirts beneath the wriggling child. "I'd like to have seen you try that three days ago."

The oldest boy had broken away from the free-for-all by the fountain and marched towards Lulu. "Hey, Lady. Are you a Yevon?" He folded his arms. "Because if you are, you'd better leave Yunie alone."

"No longer," Lulu said with cool satisfaction. "Lapsed, like your father."

"'Lapsed'?" Vidina drew himself up. "What's that s'posed to mean? Dad would never—”

"Breakfast!" Rikku said, clapping her hands. "Come on, everybody, towel time! Vidina, help your father fetch the trays."

Yuna herself brought a tray over to Lulu's bench. Soup was pooling in the sodden napkins, but the spicy aroma rising from a covered basked smelled delicious. "Eat," the girl said. She bumped against Lulu's knee. "Mum says it's bad for you to miss breakfast."

"Thank you, Yuna." Lulu set the tray next to her, took a pair of chopsticks, and selected a bite. "It's good."

"See?" Yuna picked up a dumpling with her fingers. "No more pyreflies. Wait till you get home. Dad's cooking's the best."

"Yes." Lulu's hesitation was so slight that even the girl did not notice. "Yes, that was one thing he always did well."

"I heard that, Lu!" Wakka said, tossing the ball over from where he was sitting on the lawn. It bounced lightly off Lulu's shins. "We won't tell her about your cooking, ya?"

The mage kicked it back in his direction. Water splattered everywhere when he leapt up to intercept it, although the ball had been quite dry when it left her foot. The children shrieked with laughter.

"Hey!" Rikku said. "No blitzballs at meals, remember?" Glancing over at Lulu, she bounced to her feet. "Oh! Speaking of cooking, you didn't use any sun goo, did you? Good thing I've still got some. You're looking a little pink from yesterday." She ambled over, digging into her satchel. Auron was beginning to suspect she had somehow connected it to the Farplane to hold everything. "Here we are!" She brandished a small pot and waggled it in front of the mage's nose. "One ice queen ointment, coming up! Want me to put some on or—" she lowered her voice, smirking at Auron— "should he do it?" 

"I doubt you or Sir Auron need sun protection," said Lulu. "But I'll have some, thank you."

Auron averted his gaze while Rikku applied the lotion. The women fell to mundane chatter, discussing how to "liberate" Lulu from stuffy robes which, Rikku declared, made her resemble an albino flan.

Retreating to the cloister's back wall, he observed the pleasant scene with detachment: a family picnicking on the lawn, acolytes bent to garden tasks, women plotting a shopping expedition into the city. This, truly, was the Calm they had fought for, the ordinary life which seemed to him more foreign than Sin's dreamscapes. Auron marveled at how easily the mage could step back into Spira's currents. Yet much as he wished for her to savor a few days' rest, the pilgrimage road beckoned. Peace without purpose was still a threat. They must face Zanarkand soon.

Zanarkand.

Even as he thought its name, his vitals gave a sideways lurch. Some sickening variant of Gravija began dragging at him like Guadosalam's breach to the Farplane. The chopsticks Lulu had been holding slipped and fell, spearing the dirt. Rikku chattered on, oblivious, but Yuna was patting the mage's face. As quickly as it had come, the nausea subsided. A faint, insistent tug remained, a minor irritant like the background hum of the pyreflies.

Lulu was already composing herself, features smoothing over. She chucked the girl's cheek, then looked up and met his eyes. To judge by Lulu's curt head-shake, she was as baffled as he.

---

Next Chapter: "Thorns"

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Author's Notes

Chapter renumbering: originally Chapter 48, posted Oct 2012

Comments

[melchar]

Loving this, but - wishing to be helpful:

As the last peals died away, they slipped out, threading corridors where tardy acolytes scampered towards chapel. A few tardy acolytes scampered towards chapel, heads down and hands furled in their sleeves. Those few who made eye contact were too tongue-tied to offer more than a reverent bow. None noticed that Yevon's prayer was not returned.

It seems as though the 2 sentences regarding scampering acolytes is redundant between 'threading corridors' - and the start of that next sentence.

Other than that, everything flowed well and continues the onslaught of wave sweeping forward, gaining height, mass and an over-whelming sense of destiny.

[auronlu]

whoops! after all tht editing, i still missed something. thanks.

[melchar]

LOL! You've done really well, actually. My raccoon-like brain notices those sorts of things ... and there have been very -few- errors.