Dissention: A Dissidia fanfic
Chapter 1 (intro)
A/N: I don't know if this is going to be more than a one shot, or where it's going, but regardless I wanted to put this up. Enjoy.
They were like sky. Shards of misplaced sky sheathed in a mortal vessel. The color was a blue was yet wasn't, that was, at its center metamorphic.
A frozen of moment of change was caged within the rings of the iris, the hue lingered one tottering step before plunging into the black of the pupil. It was that last glorious moment before the storm settles in, stealing all the light, that ineffable second before the sun crests the horizon.
Grey but light, it has nothing of steel, nothing of edges, or cruelty.
Thus without steels normalcy and stereotypes, it recalls the viewer of the metal yet does not.
Such contradiction is the first thing she sees.
Blinking, weary, she is aware she's lying down on grass. The blades are cool and soft, but warmed from something above. She wrenches her gaze away from those eyes and its attendant pallid face to seek the sun.
And for seeking, she finds nothing.
Perhaps the sky is the sun in this world of contradiction. For the whole of heaven is filled with a soft illumination that while sun-like has nothing of that star's intensity.
And it's with that, she knows she's not home.
By her side, those eyes of contradiction are patient and wise, the face placid and smooth, and if it weren't for the fact that his face stirs ever so slightly when he draws breath, she'd think him little more than a statue of marble.
That's how pale he is.
Beyond, behind, the shade of a tree reaches forth, darkening the green and reds of her gypsy like attire. It should be touching him, his arm perhaps, surely his wrist as he sets his hand over hers and smiles down at her. Her fingers twine in his, and he gives her hand a little squeeze, reinforcing the soft and inane greeting of "good morning".
The dark thins before contact though, and when he moves, just enough to loose his grip on her fingers and pat her arm, the shade withdraws further.
It's as if the dark abhors him.
"Normally," he drawls, lips quirking as if in warning, then his smile widens, "Someone says good morning back."
"Oh, umm..." She pauses, flushes, and to that he chuckles.
There's something unsettling, in hearing a man laugh. Something hidden, buried, and she shivers at something half realized touches her, and its claws are surely diseased. As if aware of her distress he stops his chuckle. Toned his mirth down to a small grin. It's as if he's aware of how his soft, low, tones summon that discordant ghost. A demon whose only aspect she can remember is a shrill screaming howl.
Such is the sound of her nightmares.
"Let's… try something easier, little one. How about your name? Do you remember that?"
Her mouth opens, this is a safer question by far, but at the same time, isn't.
Because, even as she opens her mouth, and says her name, she's made aware of all the other things, the things she doesn't know. The "where"s, "why"s and "who"s behind the name. For one terrifying moment she wishes for her mother, for someone to comfort her.
But she can't recall her mother's name.
She doesn't say all that, doesn't speak of the terror….
Those eyes, ringed round by ineffable, born of contradiction, their owner absently spurning the laws of what should have been as easily as breathing, surely he must have understood.
"A beautiful name." He approves. "Mothering Earth, that's what it means, at least I've been told."
And in that moment, he confirms the unbelievable, all accidental...
He doesn't know either, his "when"s or "why"s or "what"s either.
"And what's yours?"
"Light." His grin is back, soothing her terror even as he confirmed he was living it.
"At least… that's what they call me. There's some nonsense about being a knight and all that, and a warrior of some sort, but…" He shrugged. "It's just Light." Then, an afterthought, tendered to the end of his sentiment, like an absent kindness. "And it's a pleasure to meet you."
"And…" And though she isn't sure if it is or isn't… she tosses out an absent. "it's… a pleasure to meet you too."