Promises to KeepThe chill was piercing and still could not overcome the burn of pain, of loss, of failure. Zanarkand lay behind - a dead city at the centre of the never-ending spiral. Gagazet lay ahead.
To Bevelle, Besaid, Zanarkand. A chant repeated endlessly pushed his heavy feet forward. One slow step after another. Where feet failed hands sufficed.
“When this is over… could you bring Yuna here? I want her to lead a life far away from this conflict.”
“Take care of my son. My son, in Zanarkand.”
Promises to fill. How didn’t matter.
The sight of a marker filled his vision. They stopped here. They paid their respects while a quiet dread grew. This was only one of many fallen summoners. Another battle won by Gagazet. It wouldn’t win this one.
“But I have come to kill grief itself. I will defeat Sin, and lift the veil of sorrow covering Spira.”
They all fell in the end and for what? One dies and the other starts the cycle anew
What the heck, cat?When the detective came this time – Jowd, Sissel reminded herself; he has a name – he brought the cat. She never understood why – how many people brought their cats while visiting? But he was here and the cat was here and now he and Yomiel talked and she left them to it. Yomiel may have forgiven the man, but try as Sissel might she found it hard to. He was part of the whole mess that separated them for ten years. How did Yomiel maintain an actual friendly relationship with him?
Not that she ever understood what they talked about. It seemed to range anywhere from painting to oceans to cat care. And why did Yomiel seem to care so much about the cat? The cat who now lingered by the entryway into the living room and stared at her and shared her namesake. Just a coincidence, Yomiel had said.
Sissel hesitated. She had tried to visit the cat before only for him to dart away – usually straight to Yomiel (and not your owner, oh strange little beast?). Sissels had good ta
The Newest Family MemberAlma hurried to the hall when she heard the door open. She knew he was injured but all right from his call. However, she wouldn’t be fully satisfied until seeing him for herself.
Jowd slowly removed and hung his coat and her mouth thinned at the stiff awkwardness in his step. She wanted nothing more than to make him sit and reassure herself that he was all present and accounted for.
His shoulders were slumped and eyes tired. It was his expression that in a way worried her more than anything else. He looked so worn and somehow distant. Yet when he looked at her his face lit with a broad smile, relief permeating through his features. She was reminded of his return from a trip one time, but this was far more intense.
“I’m so glad you’re all right. I can’t imagine what a long day this must have been.” she said. She gasped when he laughed then suddenly stepped forward and swept her into his arms, holding her close.
“You could say that,” he mur
Mueller frowned at the board. Where had that knight come from?
“Your game is off,” Zechs commented. “A soldier requires discipline and focus, something you’ve always exemplified.” His tone softened. “What’s bothering you?”
“It’s nothing,” Mueller said. Complaining would do nothing and certainly not in regards to Him. It wasn’t his place to do so, and he seemed impervious to such things anyway.
“Your game says otherwise. You should get it off your chest before it weighs you down in a more problematic situation. And I expect more of a challenge on our next round.”
Mueller grimaced and sighed. “It’s Prince Olivert.” Wasn’t it always? To protect the Arnor line was an honour, one he swore to uphold. How did he wind up with the flighty, unpredictable, far too often inappropriate walking chaos that was Prince Olivert?
Zechs couldn’t quite conceal the flick