Author: SasukeBlade PM
Ring of Fates, Yuri-centric. "Chelinka is more than my sister. She is my twin."Rated: Fiction K - English - Family/Angst - Yuri & Chelinka - Words: 717 - Reviews: 6 - Favs: 9 - Published: 12-18-08 - Status: Complete - id: 4725590
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
My heart ached for Yuri during this sequence in Ring of Fates. This is what I imagined was going through his mind. I hope you enjoy my take on Yuri and Chelinka's relationship!
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles: Ring of Fates.
Chelinka is more than my sister. She is my twin. Al always said that meant we were one soul split into two bodies, but to be honest that's a little over my head. He's not here to say that anymore, but that doesn't mean that I've forgotten him. Meeth is gone too, now. I don't know where either of them went, only that they're not dead. I try not to think about Al or Meeth too much, anyway. Whenever I do, I get so angry that I have to go outside and practice until the anger is gone and only sweat and soreness remain. So I've given up thought for the most part. It does no good anymore.
Chelinka is not gone. She isn't. Her soul is wounded, but I know she is still here with me. She is the only one. Mom is gone. Dad is gone. Even Stiltzkin no longer drops by. As far as the world is concerned, all of us died that day.
We have been alone in this house for three years, seven months, and twenty-three days now. When I think of the time that has passed the days blur together; I can only remember bits and pieces. The initial discovery, some of my attempts to reach the part of my sister that is Chelinka, surrendering to the fact that I could not heal her, the routines I began to fall into. It's hard to believe that so much time has passed.
Things aren't as hard as they could be. If ordered, Chelinka's body can perform basic tasks, like eating and using the outhouse. It sits at the table with me every night and eats the basic soups I cobble together without complaint. I used to talk to it, but eventually it hurt too much to carry on the one sided conversations, so I gave up on those too. Now we sit in silence, for as long as I can stand her expressionless eyes boring into me.
"Gods, Chelinka, where did you go?" I ask tonight, tired of that empty gaze. Funny how the lack of response still surprises me. My throat tightens, my appetite is suddenly gone. "Why did you go?"
She is motionless, a child's toy forgotten at some imagined tea party, except for the hand that holds her spoon. It scrapes the bottom of her empty bowl and lifts it to her lips, a parody of eating that suddenly makes me sick to my stomach.
"Stop eating!" I order, angry. She obligingly puts the spoon down. My twin would never have done anything that obediently. My twin would never have left me like this.
"Chelinka," I say as I rise from my seat. I'm so much taller now, thinner. Would my own sister even recognize me if she ever did wake up? I've changed so much. Would she even know me? "Chelinka why don't you say something?"
There is no response. There hasn't been a response for three years, seven months, and twenty-three days now. I can't stand looking into the eyes of that porcelain doll any longer.
"Go to bed." She goes without a fight, and I want to scream.
She might as well be gone. Chelinka is my sister, and while I love her, right now I hate her more than anything in the world for leaving me here to deal with this alone. So I go outside and practice with my sword until I can't feel my hands or feet and my body gives up and I fall in the snow, unable to even muster the strength to cry.
That's another thing I've given up, crying. I have to be strong, after all. I have to save my sister. There has to be a way, I just know it. I'll find it somehow.
Until then, well, Chelinka is my twin, and I won't ever leave her.