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rose_in_winterCharacters: Lightning, Tifa, Yuna
Rating: G
Contains: Spoilers
Wordcount: 1268
Notes: Written forzen_monk in the 2013 round of DOINK! Final Fantasy Exchange, for the prompt: Tifa, Yuna and Lightning take a moment to talk about things aside from fighting for Cosmos. Both Lightning and Tifa marvel at how much Yuna remembers of her homeworld, and through prompting each try to think of what could be a part of their personal history through Tifa's fists, Lightning's blade and Yuna's duty. The more they know and respect each other, the more they feel less like they're alone together, and more like being lost together.
Betas: n/a
Summary: They're fighting to go back home, but where is home? What good is fighting for something you can't remember?
Lightning is accustomed to fighting in a group of three. From the easy way the others fall into a pattern, she thinks they must be too. She can't remember the people she used to fight with; she remembers punching one, not quite as effectively as Tifa's fists can send a manikin flying halfway across an area (though it felt really satisfying), and she remembers someone with magic as strong as Yuna's eidolons—no, she calls them aeons. But those people are not here, no matter how much she might sometimes mistake her new companions for them.
She wonders what it's like to remember those she's left behind. Lightning hates being any god's plaything; Cosmos is not the worst master she could have, but Cosmos is still her master. Lightning will not be a puppet. She is not a manikin.
"Is it easier, to know where you came from?" she asks Yuna one night when they make camp, in the shadow of the massive crystal where Zidane and Kuja seem most at home.
Yuna sits quietly, compactly, kneeling with her hands folded in her lap. "Easier than what?" she asks, not mockingly. Yuna does not mock.
"Easier than wondering who you're fighting for," Lightning says. There's a flicker of memory that's gone before she can catch it; even before this she was fighting for someone. Who meant so much to her? Why can't she remember?
"But aren't we fighting to remember?" Tifa asks. She's inspecting her left hand, where a punch caught the wrong edge of the armor of a Garland manikin and split the skin. Lightning reaches for it, thinking to use Cure, but Yuna beats her to it. Tifa flexes her hand and smiles her thanks.
"Fighting to remember why we're fighting." Lightning scoffs. "If that isn't a snake eating its own tail—"
"I don't think it's easier," Yuna says, and Lightning stops, because Yuna doesn't usually interrupt. "Lightning, you fight like you were born to do it; it's something you must have done even before. And you, Tifa, you knew how to fight before you came here too. I didn't, not the same way, because I had others to fight for me." She looks a little ashamed. "I guess I still do, in my aeons. And—I keep thinking about my guardians. We traveled together for so long...it's hard to fight by myself now."
Tifa reaches over and rests a hand on Yuna's shoulder. Lightning hasn't had that kind of easy camaraderie with someone in a long time. Not since—
Not since whom?
"I'm going to check the perimeter," she says brusquely, and jumps to her feet. They don't try to stop her. She paces around a far larger area than she really needs to, only because keeping watch like this means she can't spend too long thinking about the gaps in her memory. She remembers crystals and powers the likes of which she had never dreamed in—Cocoon, that's it. Cocoon was a safe place, all things considered. And yet living like this, constantly alert and constantly on the move, feels more familiar than the vague memories of the place she calls home. The people she doesn't quite remember—she traveled with them like this.
That brings up another thought that makes her shy away, and she breaks into a sprint, touring the edge of the campsite too fast so she won't have to think.
~*~
Making camp here is very different than it was in Spira. Yuna knows how to cook, but they rarely build a fire. The rations Cosmos gives them are filling, if not tasty—she never thought she'd miss the mouth-searing curries that Rikku made, but after the blandness of this strange stuff that doesn't taste like food but gives them strength and eases their hunger, she would even eat Brother's cooking. (Maybe once. Just for something different.)
In fact, none of the little rituals of making camp work here; they don't pitch tents, and they don't build a campfire. They do set guard shifts, but Lightning insists on taking half of them, and Yuna thinks it's starting to take its toll. Lightning is too pale, her movements too sharp, as though she constantly pulls herself back to wakefulness.
"You should rest tonight," she tells Lightning. Tifa is already curled up, sleeping early so she can take second watch. "I can stay up."
Lightning shakes her head, sharp and fast, and Yuna hears her neck pop from the movement. "I'm fine," she says.
Yuna draws her knees up under her chin. "What will you do when you get home?" she asks. She knows it's not what Lightning wants to talk about, but she thinks it might be what she needs.
Lightning pays too much attention to cleaning her sword. "I'm not sure we'll ever get home," she says.
That makes a horrible sick icy feeling drop into the pit of Yuna's stomach. "What do you mean?" she whispers.
"We're told that fighting will help us go home. A home most of us can't remember, which is pretty convenient if you think about it like an ancient god who needs its pawns to think they're going for something they want. You remember your home, so maybe it's real. How do I know that what I remember isn't something Cosmos put there?" Lightning swipes her rag too hard down the blade and swears when a cut opens, welling with crimson blood, across her palm. Yuna casts Cure almost without thinking about it, and Lightning's muttered thanks makes her heart ache.
"We had to come from somewhere," Yuna said. "There's a place out there for you."
Lightning is quiet. "I think I was hunted there," she says after a little too long. "Being on the run, watching in case someone's coming—this is too familiar. I don't...know if I want to go back there." She falls silent again. "But I think there was someone there who mattered, and I can't remember."
Yuna shifts closer and reaches out to lay her hand over Lightning's. Lightning flinches as though Yuna's hit her instead of offering comfort. "Maybe you don't have to," Yuna says. "You can wait for your memories to return. Maybe Cosmos will send you somewhere else, if you ask."
Lightning scoffs. "Relying on her again."
Yuna can't say much to that; the Temple's betrayal is still sharp and new if she thinks about it, which she tries not to do. "You don't rely on her, though," Yuna says. "You rely on yourself."
"We rely on each other," Tifa says sleepily, from the other side of the campsite. "You're not alone here, y'know."
Lightning starts a little, and stares down at the sword in her lap.
"Guess not," she says, and there's almost a smile hovering at the corner of her mouth.
"Get some sleep," Yuna says again.
Lightning finishes cleaning her weapon—mostly, Yuna knows, to act like it's her own idea to get some sleep—and then she curls up and pulls the edge of her cape over herself, fist tucked up under her chin and head curled down so she will take up as little space as possible.
These are not her guardians, but she feels worthy to fight alongside them. Yuna and her aeons keep watch for the night, over these friends. Someday, she will go home again; until then, she will make her home here, with them, and they will all feel a little less alone.
Yuna hums the hymn of the fayth, because it comforts her still, and thinks of home.
Rating: G
Contains: Spoilers
Wordcount: 1268
Notes: Written for
zen_monk in the 2013 round of DOINK! Final Fantasy Exchange, for the prompt: Tifa, Yuna and Lightning take a moment to talk about things aside from fighting for Cosmos. Both Lightning and Tifa marvel at how much Yuna remembers of her homeworld, and through prompting each try to think of what could be a part of their personal history through Tifa's fists, Lightning's blade and Yuna's duty. The more they know and respect each other, the more they feel less like they're alone together, and more like being lost together.Betas: n/a
Summary: They're fighting to go back home, but where is home? What good is fighting for something you can't remember?
Lightning is accustomed to fighting in a group of three. From the easy way the others fall into a pattern, she thinks they must be too. She can't remember the people she used to fight with; she remembers punching one, not quite as effectively as Tifa's fists can send a manikin flying halfway across an area (though it felt really satisfying), and she remembers someone with magic as strong as Yuna's eidolons—no, she calls them aeons. But those people are not here, no matter how much she might sometimes mistake her new companions for them.
She wonders what it's like to remember those she's left behind. Lightning hates being any god's plaything; Cosmos is not the worst master she could have, but Cosmos is still her master. Lightning will not be a puppet. She is not a manikin.
"Is it easier, to know where you came from?" she asks Yuna one night when they make camp, in the shadow of the massive crystal where Zidane and Kuja seem most at home.
Yuna sits quietly, compactly, kneeling with her hands folded in her lap. "Easier than what?" she asks, not mockingly. Yuna does not mock.
"Easier than wondering who you're fighting for," Lightning says. There's a flicker of memory that's gone before she can catch it; even before this she was fighting for someone. Who meant so much to her? Why can't she remember?
"But aren't we fighting to remember?" Tifa asks. She's inspecting her left hand, where a punch caught the wrong edge of the armor of a Garland manikin and split the skin. Lightning reaches for it, thinking to use Cure, but Yuna beats her to it. Tifa flexes her hand and smiles her thanks.
"Fighting to remember why we're fighting." Lightning scoffs. "If that isn't a snake eating its own tail—"
"I don't think it's easier," Yuna says, and Lightning stops, because Yuna doesn't usually interrupt. "Lightning, you fight like you were born to do it; it's something you must have done even before. And you, Tifa, you knew how to fight before you came here too. I didn't, not the same way, because I had others to fight for me." She looks a little ashamed. "I guess I still do, in my aeons. And—I keep thinking about my guardians. We traveled together for so long...it's hard to fight by myself now."
Tifa reaches over and rests a hand on Yuna's shoulder. Lightning hasn't had that kind of easy camaraderie with someone in a long time. Not since—
Not since whom?
"I'm going to check the perimeter," she says brusquely, and jumps to her feet. They don't try to stop her. She paces around a far larger area than she really needs to, only because keeping watch like this means she can't spend too long thinking about the gaps in her memory. She remembers crystals and powers the likes of which she had never dreamed in—Cocoon, that's it. Cocoon was a safe place, all things considered. And yet living like this, constantly alert and constantly on the move, feels more familiar than the vague memories of the place she calls home. The people she doesn't quite remember—she traveled with them like this.
That brings up another thought that makes her shy away, and she breaks into a sprint, touring the edge of the campsite too fast so she won't have to think.
~*~
Making camp here is very different than it was in Spira. Yuna knows how to cook, but they rarely build a fire. The rations Cosmos gives them are filling, if not tasty—she never thought she'd miss the mouth-searing curries that Rikku made, but after the blandness of this strange stuff that doesn't taste like food but gives them strength and eases their hunger, she would even eat Brother's cooking. (Maybe once. Just for something different.)
In fact, none of the little rituals of making camp work here; they don't pitch tents, and they don't build a campfire. They do set guard shifts, but Lightning insists on taking half of them, and Yuna thinks it's starting to take its toll. Lightning is too pale, her movements too sharp, as though she constantly pulls herself back to wakefulness.
"You should rest tonight," she tells Lightning. Tifa is already curled up, sleeping early so she can take second watch. "I can stay up."
Lightning shakes her head, sharp and fast, and Yuna hears her neck pop from the movement. "I'm fine," she says.
Yuna draws her knees up under her chin. "What will you do when you get home?" she asks. She knows it's not what Lightning wants to talk about, but she thinks it might be what she needs.
Lightning pays too much attention to cleaning her sword. "I'm not sure we'll ever get home," she says.
That makes a horrible sick icy feeling drop into the pit of Yuna's stomach. "What do you mean?" she whispers.
"We're told that fighting will help us go home. A home most of us can't remember, which is pretty convenient if you think about it like an ancient god who needs its pawns to think they're going for something they want. You remember your home, so maybe it's real. How do I know that what I remember isn't something Cosmos put there?" Lightning swipes her rag too hard down the blade and swears when a cut opens, welling with crimson blood, across her palm. Yuna casts Cure almost without thinking about it, and Lightning's muttered thanks makes her heart ache.
"We had to come from somewhere," Yuna said. "There's a place out there for you."
Lightning is quiet. "I think I was hunted there," she says after a little too long. "Being on the run, watching in case someone's coming—this is too familiar. I don't...know if I want to go back there." She falls silent again. "But I think there was someone there who mattered, and I can't remember."
Yuna shifts closer and reaches out to lay her hand over Lightning's. Lightning flinches as though Yuna's hit her instead of offering comfort. "Maybe you don't have to," Yuna says. "You can wait for your memories to return. Maybe Cosmos will send you somewhere else, if you ask."
Lightning scoffs. "Relying on her again."
Yuna can't say much to that; the Temple's betrayal is still sharp and new if she thinks about it, which she tries not to do. "You don't rely on her, though," Yuna says. "You rely on yourself."
"We rely on each other," Tifa says sleepily, from the other side of the campsite. "You're not alone here, y'know."
Lightning starts a little, and stares down at the sword in her lap.
"Guess not," she says, and there's almost a smile hovering at the corner of her mouth.
"Get some sleep," Yuna says again.
Lightning finishes cleaning her weapon—mostly, Yuna knows, to act like it's her own idea to get some sleep—and then she curls up and pulls the edge of her cape over herself, fist tucked up under her chin and head curled down so she will take up as little space as possible.
These are not her guardians, but she feels worthy to fight alongside them. Yuna and her aeons keep watch for the night, over these friends. Someday, she will go home again; until then, she will make her home here, with them, and they will all feel a little less alone.
Yuna hums the hymn of the fayth, because it comforts her still, and thinks of home.