Belongs to Squarenix.
AN: Theses are the outtakes. All the 'She is…' parts were too long, but I didn't want to part with them, so I took them out. Now, here they are, because I'd rather they not sit and waste.
She is the cold mist of the sea that buffers Mushroom Rock Road, stinging his cheeks with a damp chill and moistening his hair. She clings to his consciousness, sinks into his bones with that very same cold, and he wonders how in Spira she manages to maintain such cheerfulness when she shivers and shakes like a leaf in a gale.
She is the disquieting reverence of Bevelle that hovers over the city like a mist. She shakes him, disturbs him, leaves him uncertain of his footing and afraid to take another step. She is loud and whiny and immature, everything that is opposite of the sacred city, yet manages to shake him as strongly as it ever has.
She is the bright cerulean sky of the Mi'hen Highroad that brushes softly over her eyes, the azure pennants of her outfit drifting down her shoulders in wild ribbon tangles and blending into the sky. She meanders cheerfully along the path, soft breezes drifting like summer over and around her and allowing Auron to catch the soft scent of her hair within it.
She is the buzzing, noisy energy of Luca that hums around her, surrounding her in a hazy glow of broken conversations, muffled footsteps and the gentle lap of waves. She weaves in and out of the crowds like the mischievous thief she is, flitting back and forth, and for every second she is out of sight, Auron feels his breath catch, for he is afraid that she will disappear forever.
She is the hopeful, hopeless ruins of Zanarkand, always at odds with her own beliefs, always changing his. She stares back at him from the crumbled stone and ancient, abrupt history, lost within a maze of stifled never-dreams and the sighs of wandering pyreflys.
She is the brash, noisy storm of the Thunder Plains that causes her to tremble and whine as she pleads with him noisily to stop and seek shelter, and he gives in because he cannot stand to listen to her childishness anymore, and because she is tender and foolish and young, and it pains him to have such innocence flagrantly flung into his face.