A memory of a man

FT: For Final Fantasy IV.

He was gone.


Like smoke on a windy day.

She stood in the room he once inhabited, wondering 'was he really here?'

Nobody knew where he went.

Nobody would tell her if they knew.

She was stuck.


The words wouldn't leave her lips, but a warm hand on her shoulder nearly made her jump.

'Ye can't tame those wild folk. They ne'er accept it.' The warm hand seemed to say, and she shuddered at the revolting thought. The hand moved to her back, rubbing gently, completely misunderstanding.

He was gone, and they already thought she was broken beyond repair.

Days passed, and she heard the whispers, and she found it harder to remember the shade of his hair in sunlight.

Weeks passed, and her mother threw up her hands in disgust, telling her to mope all she liked, because she didn't care anymore.

A year passed, and she had one clear memory of him left, his blue touched black hair dancing in a summer breeze.

Occasionally, she heard rumors of her love, traveling with some red-haired vixen who cast the gentlest of healing spells.

She hated this unknown woman.

When she appeared, she tried to feed her hate with her sweet words and polite mannerisms. Tried to snarl at the fair skin littered with pale freckles, the eyes nearly the same shade as her loves' hair, and a copper tail that cascaded down her slender back in lush tumbles.

But he was beside her, laughing, and exchanging jokes with her, twitching the end of that copper mane, and the smile that played across his face when she rolled her eyes at him. But it was that glow about his features that made her sick.

He… was happy.

Not depressed, like her, sunk into mires of despair so deep she couldn't breathe.

He was glowing, and a single glance directed at the copper-haired beauty said everything.

She was his morning light, his star, the apple of his eye.

And she obviously reciprocated his feelings, her eyes turning soft when he gave a sheepish smile.

She wanted to hate her.

But she couldn't.

Because he left, without making her a promise. There was nothing to keep him here.

Only she had been deluding herself of his loneliness.

It made her sink further, until the copper haired beauty approached her. She didn't try to understand her pain. She knew.

The copper haired woman just sat there, while the painful silence stretched to the breaking point when she started ranting about how this vixen had stolen away her love, how he had been spirited away by her looks, and the copper haired woman just SAT there, taking in the abuse, with earnest blue eyes.

And it finally hit her. He left because he didn't owe her anything.

The copper haired woman gave her a penetrating look, and nodded once.

Her former lover and the copper haired woman left after that, and she never saw them again.

But she would hear whispers, gossips talking behind their hands, speaking of a blue-haired man who traveled with a copper-haired woman across the continent.

Where their adventures would lead them, no one knew, but a letter arrived once, with a picture of a darling girl with near violet hair and blue eyes.

She shared her name, written in the neat script of her former lover, and the elegant loops that must have been the copper haired woman.

'He still remembers you. He thought you could forgive him for this.'

She remembered crying a little at it.

Of course.