Lassarina (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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rose_in_winter2019-03-29 06:45 pm
lassarina) wrote in rose_in_winter2019-03-29 06:45 pm
[Final Fantasy VIII] Service by Choice
Characters: Leviathan, Squall, Selphie, Zell
Contains: N/A
Wordcount: 651
Notes: Written forgenprompt_bingo round 15, "Krakens, Leviathans, and Creatures of the Deep"
Betas: None
Summary: Leviathan contemplates calling his tidal wave outside his contract of service, but he is here by his own choice.
He stirs at the sound of grinding gears. It is not so much that sound that calls him, for he speaks not in the metallic groans and shrieks of machinery, but the sound beneath it, the sliding rush of salt water.
Leviathan wakes, and uses the eyes of the body that carries him.
From the place his gaze falls naturally on walls and furnishings, he sees he has been assigned the girl, the one who skips and laughs for the others but huddles tight in her own mind, worrying that she will be separated from them. She fears being alone, fears losing her childhood friends now that she has found them again. She is not content to drift on the waves until she finds her way; she will fight through any undertow.
Today she travels with her commander and with the martial artist. A new power rides in the commander, and Leviathan's whiskers prickle at the ancient draconic power. Bahamut. He knows that Guardian Force. He knows it is wise to stay away.
He averts his phantom gaze, lest he be seen as a challenger, and sees a massive window--and beyond it, his domain.
He longs for the girl to step closer to the window, to let him see that from which he came, but she does not, skipping instead around a chunk of machinery as the martial artist prods it. They are beneath the sea, in some human-made structure that survives the waves. Not deep, not yet, but Leviathan calls to his domain and it calls back. The structure sinks all the way to the sea bed. Fish and seaweed have made its exterior their home, but its interior remains sealed, swaying gently in the currents.
He thinks of calling a tidal wave, but he has not been asked, and he knows the nature of the bargain he has made. Still, he is restless, so close to the source of his power, and the girl feels it. She pauses, then walks to the window, pressing her hands against the glass. He feels the chill of the ocean through it, but it is not enough.
Thuds and metallic scrapes sound behind them. The girl leans closer to the glass, until her breath fogs it, and he feels the currents outside as they flow past. He could break the contract at any time. He could pull the water in--this glass is thick, yes, but he is a Guardian Force. The bolts that seal metal and glass are not so sturdy as all that.
He doesn't serve, not the way some might classify the act. He lends his power, and it is true he has nothing to say about how it will be used, as when the warped Shumi thought to wield him against the children he now serves. But it is also true that he could have fought to stay with NORG, could have turned his water against them, and it is likewise true that he could break this contract at any time. Yet he does not; he is here because he chooses to lend his strength to them, and to draw their memories in return. His own memory is long, and because it is long, much in it lacks urgency or the flavor of true emotion. These children feel everything in jarringly brilliant shades, even their commander who works to project such an indifferent facade.
"Got it!" the martial artist crows, and more metal grinds, opening a stairway to a lower level.
"Let's go." The commander is already standing at the lip of the opening.
The girl looks one last time at his domain--does she know? The way she smiles at the glass says perhaps she does--and then skips over to them, and he sinks deeper into the ocean with her, its power ever ready at his command, as he is at theirs.
Contains: N/A
Wordcount: 651
Notes: Written for
genprompt_bingo round 15, "Krakens, Leviathans, and Creatures of the Deep"Betas: None
Summary: Leviathan contemplates calling his tidal wave outside his contract of service, but he is here by his own choice.
He stirs at the sound of grinding gears. It is not so much that sound that calls him, for he speaks not in the metallic groans and shrieks of machinery, but the sound beneath it, the sliding rush of salt water.
Leviathan wakes, and uses the eyes of the body that carries him.
From the place his gaze falls naturally on walls and furnishings, he sees he has been assigned the girl, the one who skips and laughs for the others but huddles tight in her own mind, worrying that she will be separated from them. She fears being alone, fears losing her childhood friends now that she has found them again. She is not content to drift on the waves until she finds her way; she will fight through any undertow.
Today she travels with her commander and with the martial artist. A new power rides in the commander, and Leviathan's whiskers prickle at the ancient draconic power. Bahamut. He knows that Guardian Force. He knows it is wise to stay away.
He averts his phantom gaze, lest he be seen as a challenger, and sees a massive window--and beyond it, his domain.
He longs for the girl to step closer to the window, to let him see that from which he came, but she does not, skipping instead around a chunk of machinery as the martial artist prods it. They are beneath the sea, in some human-made structure that survives the waves. Not deep, not yet, but Leviathan calls to his domain and it calls back. The structure sinks all the way to the sea bed. Fish and seaweed have made its exterior their home, but its interior remains sealed, swaying gently in the currents.
He thinks of calling a tidal wave, but he has not been asked, and he knows the nature of the bargain he has made. Still, he is restless, so close to the source of his power, and the girl feels it. She pauses, then walks to the window, pressing her hands against the glass. He feels the chill of the ocean through it, but it is not enough.
Thuds and metallic scrapes sound behind them. The girl leans closer to the glass, until her breath fogs it, and he feels the currents outside as they flow past. He could break the contract at any time. He could pull the water in--this glass is thick, yes, but he is a Guardian Force. The bolts that seal metal and glass are not so sturdy as all that.
He doesn't serve, not the way some might classify the act. He lends his power, and it is true he has nothing to say about how it will be used, as when the warped Shumi thought to wield him against the children he now serves. But it is also true that he could have fought to stay with NORG, could have turned his water against them, and it is likewise true that he could break this contract at any time. Yet he does not; he is here because he chooses to lend his strength to them, and to draw their memories in return. His own memory is long, and because it is long, much in it lacks urgency or the flavor of true emotion. These children feel everything in jarringly brilliant shades, even their commander who works to project such an indifferent facade.
"Got it!" the martial artist crows, and more metal grinds, opening a stairway to a lower level.
"Let's go." The commander is already standing at the lip of the opening.
The girl looks one last time at his domain--does she know? The way she smiles at the glass says perhaps she does--and then skips over to them, and he sinks deeper into the ocean with her, its power ever ready at his command, as he is at theirs.