|Wishing For Whistles
Author: Fighter le Faye PM
-Yuna drabble- The nineteen year old found it so ironic. The walk was the same walk she used when she performed her first sending on the waters of Kilika. Expect she had her blue-and-yellow staff in hand and bare feet connected to the corpse-filled sea.Rated: Fiction T - English - Spiritual - Yuna - Words: 1,375 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 2 - Published: 05-26-09 - Status: Complete - id: 5091037
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
FF009: Random Yuna-centric drabble thingy inspired by Red's "Ordinary World." (LISTEN. TO. THAT. SONG. PLEASE?) Wrote this very late at night and couldn't sleep until I finished it. I wanted to extend it a bit longer, but I decided to keep it solely Yuna. Would love to hear opinions on this.
Contains hints of spoilers to FFX. Think of this as pre-FFX-2.
Wishing for Whistles
Swaying supple body surrounded by sunset's smiles. Head lobbing side to side easily.
The world kept tilting.
Slender fingers tangled together, connecting her hands together as toes curled in anticipation of fear and thrill of a fall. She was flirting with danger by daring to stand up on the furiously flying Celsius.
Yuna didn't give a damn.
Again she let her head sway, her damp face the picture of strained serenity.
Alone in whispering light, drinking scents and breathing lies.
Flying free with no worry, arms bound toward the sapphire sky.
And she knew freedom she never knew before.
Yuna knew she could fall off at any second, but she was not concerned. She kept reaching and reaching and standing out on the deck of the Celsius, anchoring this undefiable feeling in the center of her body.
She stretched her arms out, high, high above her head as the red airship soared below the pinkish purple candy clouds. The Gullwings' ship arched and slowly swerved away from the setting sun. And still she held her hands up to the crying sky but anxiety made her dig her toes into the metal floor as the ship turned. The feeling of a falling somersaulted over and over in her stomach.
Eyes remained closed, shut to the sky and her comrades and the dividing lands. Oh, the High Summoner already had a full idea of what was happening, now she was gone from Besaid. Peace was giving way to political parties.
The three emerging groups—one so easily defined as the reincarnated religion that took her father; one of her mother's people and machines; one of the scorned youth wanting to fight for memories of Spira's lost past.
Their history. So much of it was lost to Sin's destruction in the centuries.
Was this...was peace supposed to be so complicated and shady? Why was power so important and necessary for people to establish their confidence? Why couldn't they simply be one people, rebuild themselves, and remember the fallen?
Yuna didn't understand how the rest of the world couldn't submit to that idea.
And they weren't.
Thousands of melting beads of water slithered down her petal soft skin, the warm wind at this altitude whipping her red tail against the backs of her legs. Goosebumps spread over her body, the ending of the sun's time bringing in cold wind to thrash at her. Tipping her chin up, the sphere hunter slowly let her arms hang out parallel to the ocean hundreds of yards below, a misty, murky swear of blue below.
Yuna felt so...
Not happy, but...
And nothing more. Truly nothing more.
A hard smile twisted her pink lips up.
She was flying through the world with no hands on the ship. Not a back-bending summoner letting maesters use her to bleed Spira and Sin, but an independent woman standing tall with determination burning her blood warm and proud.
The smile softened, melting into genuine bliss. The ex-summoner gripped her hands into fists, loving the fact of who she was now. She felt more powerful now without her band of once guardians.
Digging her toes harder in the ground Yuna let her eyes open, surveying the surreal soundings swell around with no expression. Glossy cerulean and sea-green eyes drifted from the flying clouds to the specks of green and brown of the main continent on the dim horizon.
Her dual-colored eyes blinked thrice, realizing they passed the gathering of celestial teardrops, and took a deep breath. Her chest rose and fell with the simple, universal gesture as the rain dried into her skin. Arms still held out Yuna steadied in a slow, definite walk forward.
The nineteen year old found it so ironic.
The walk was the same walk she used when she performed her first sending on the waters of Kilika.
Expect she had her blue-and-yellow staff in hand and bare feet connected to the corpse-filled sea. Tears fell from her wide eyes as sighing pyreflies rose with each twirl of her death dance. And she luckily concealed her crying from all but the hawk-eyed, sympathetic Lulu.
Now, she discarded her royal purple skirt for pistols, arms out with the whim that the "star of the Zanarkand Abes" was out there. Alive.
They carved and killed Yu Yevon from Sin. The fading of the father and son heralded from the dead city marked the birth of the Eternal Calm.
People looked and fell to their knees when they saw Yuna walking by. She was the hero. Spira's declared savior.
They had no idea she had the blood of her aeons stained on her hands.
Forever and ever she would always remember that haunting moment of forced, desperate, heated murders, watching her aeons—her friends—rot with the cursed Yu Yevon. She desolately watched each allied aeon twist and writhe until they let it possess their pride and become their enemy. She remembered how, when each aeon collapsed to their shaking knees, her heart suspended beating. A desperate need to fall to her knees and gush out grieving tears washed over her like waves. With each aeon the waves got stronger until her lips were trembling and skin clammy until pyreflies remained.
And she let it happen. She accepted that as the only way to save Spira.
But now...standing on the freedom of the Gullwings' back...she was now wondering if their could have been another way to stop Yu Yevon.
Yuna chewed on her tongue; she'd never know. That desperate, fast-paced period after killing Yunalesca was too fast, too desperate, too uncertain. If they had more time...
Yuna shook her head vigorously, stray brown bangs tickling into her eyes.
"This...I have to think today. I know I'll...I'll always remember the past." Her vision dipped down, her mouth a thinning line. "I need to do what I want to do now." She lifted her head to the star-approaching sky of the Calm Lands Brother was shouting over the intercom they were approaching. A sigh fell to her rain-soaked boots. "I'll think more later on it. Now I need to focus on finding you...and I'll ask you if there could have been another way to save Spira..."
She wanted to be more like him. In a twisted way, it felt like she was honoring his memory by being more like him.
Tingles of aches in her arms started to reach her brain, having held them out for more than ten minutes straight now. Rolling her head a bit Yuna resumed her walk to the edge of the deck, roars of the warning wind filling her ears.
Three feet to the sloped edge, then she pasted the porcelain seagull statue, steadying at the very point between a safe stand and tipping over to die. It was another hopeless hopeful chance, but...
With trained skill, Yuna put two fingers in her mouth and blew a piercing whistle, balling her other fist as she blew for as loud as she could.
The whistle got caught in the winds but Yuna let her hand drop to her side and took a tiny step back. She looked around listening, a weak gleam in her jaded eyes, searching for a sigh of him. But she couldn't be sure if he was the one whistling for her now.
If he was whistling, then she had to keep running.
Velvet dark skies spread over the rich, green plains of the Calm Lands as Yuna turned her back to it and walked back for the deck door, smiling.
That thought, that hope, was enough to keep her going.