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runicloreSo, I found a lot of old stuff. That's always fun. And I doubt I'll ever finish these. They're snippets, basically, that I might as well air out for the fun of it. Maybe seeing them posted will inspire me, or something like that. ^^
Doubtful, but hey! Never miss a chance to torture your audience, they say.
Each of these entries will be preceded by a few notes explaining, if necessary, what is supposed to be going on, as some of them don't start at the beginning, but only in the general vicinity of it.
#1: Xenogears
Notes: This began when I started thinking about what happened just after Sophia's death, but before the Diablos Invasion. IF Krelian found out about Shevat's deal, as he surely must have, I think he would be pissed. That's putting it mildly, really. Just before this snippet begins, a Shevite ambassador tried to renew diplomatic relations, and was thrown out after a close call with Krelian's blade.
Roni watched them go, turning his head just enough to see Krelian at the corner of his vision. "What were you thinking? This isn't the enemy we're dealing with. They-"
"I don't care."
He twisted around, cast a questioning glance at his brother. Rene shook his head. "Krelian... We can't just start murdering Shevat operatives. Don't you think I know how you feel? They make me sick whenever they slither into my presence!" He took a deep breath, and tried to keep his voice steady. "But we must put up with it for now. Nisan can't afford a war on two fronts, you know that-"
"I don't care!" Krelian spun to face them like lightning, face contorted in rage. Rene jerked back. "I don't care! They can all die, and burn in the fire that consumed Sophia!"
Roni stared, frozen with words on his lips that seemed completely inadequate. Tears swam in Krelian's azure eyes, and turned their shine into something almost mad. He looked like a man on the verge of breaking, and it shook him badly to see him shaking like that, with his hand clenched around the hilt of his sword. As if... he would even attack his friends. If he still saw the world as two shades, instead of just one.
Silence stretched between them. Krelian turned back to the wall; leaning against the table, he spoke again more softly, and the deadly edge in his voice was chilling. "I will not tolerate them any longer. If I have to deal with them one more time, I will destroy the lot of them. So, Roni, if you object to that... I suggest you make sure they have departed by tomorrow morning."
He shot another look at Rene, and was met with a nod and a shrug. "Fine. I'll see to it, sir."
There was no flinch, no admonition to drop the formality. When he turned his back on Krelian and strode for the door, his footsteps were the only sound in the room.
...
#2: Slayers
Childhood was fleeting joy. The memories were warm as the sunlight on his pale skin and sweet as honeyed wine, all waving grasses and summer roses, and the laughter of his mother chiming on the wind. That was his most precious memory, and more than once since then, he had been known to say, 'I would give up everything to have that back.'
Zelgadis opened his eyes, lids sluggish with sleep, and his wish was granted.
The breeze was heavily laden with the scent of roses, broken now and then with the sharpness of pine from the forest to the south. Pale, azure sky touched the waving yellow grasses of his field in the distance, blinding in its clarity. It was quiet, but the Greywords household was always quiet, even on sunny days like this when he was allowed outside to play. Far away from towns and other settlements, they lived peacefully on their own merits, never left wanting for anything, always solemn and hushed and solitary. The great sage would have nothing else.
The great sage was a difficult man to please. He was gentle and patient, but never happy. His robes were like blood flowing, and his voice was like his laboratory below the house - full of dark secrets. He scared Zelgadis and inspired admiration all at once. Grandfather was strong; someday he too would be strong. Maybe he would be too, if he stopped getting sick and learned how to magic things.
Wind whispered through the grasses, mournful and dry. His mother's laughter did not come with it. Zelgadis turned around slowly and scanned the fields with his unnaturally sharp eyes, but he was met with nothing but sunny fields and blue sky, and his own muddled thoughts. There was no house, yet there should have been one; no mother, or cousins, or servants. He felt a cold pit in his stomach, and it reminded him of the doom awaiting him under that tree with Lina Inverse and her swordsman friend... but in the next moment, their plight slipped from his mind and he wondered again where everything had gone.
He knew then it must be a dream. Despite the hardships and plagues his family had fallen to, the house still stood near the border of Sairaag, though its inhabitants had died long ago and left him alone with his grandfather. If Zelgadis had anything to say about it, it would always be there, waiting for him to return with his cure, free of the chains Rezo had bound him with.
Rezo. As if the fleeting thought had summoned the man, the metallic clang of his grandfather's accursed staff sounded at his back. The chimes silenced the wind and left the field eerily quiet.
He spun around again more quickly, feeling oddly unweildly, as if his body did not wish to obey his commands, and his grandfather towered over him as it had been when Zelgadis was a child. The billowing robes blotted out the sunny fiends and clear sky, a crimson stain in an otherwise idyllic dream. Would it be the same nightmare all over again? He looked down at his hands, and saw with a sickening lurch to his stomach that they were pale and soft - a child's hands. Not stone, but real flesh and blood, just as he remembered them!
What trick was this? Had the Dark Lord taken advantage of his connection with Rezo to torment him even in his sleep?
"They've gone," the Red Priest said softly, his voice filling the emptiness left by the wind. His face was turned down to Zelgadis, and he was /looking/, though his eyes were sealed shut. "You have been left alone."
Alone. The word chilled him, and he shook his head, though of course the priest couldn't see it. It occurred to him, suddenly, that perhaps Rezo wasn't speaking just about their family. "No," he replied, and cringed at his small, reedy voice. Not as long as you're here. He wanted to say it, but the words wouldn't come. He tried to feel angry instead, dredge the memory of his unasked for 'gift' to the surface, but that too was out of his reach, leaving him with that strange, clammy cold that seemed to freeze him in place under that unseeing gaze.
Rezo's invisible gaze sharpened, and it seemed he would open his eyes after all. "You know what must be done."
No! Zelgadis searched that gaze, clenching his small hands into fists. Something had changed in the priest; the mocking lilt of word and smile were gone, the set of his expression softer. He was reminded of benevolent smiles and quiet, reserved laughter, and firelight... There had been a time when the chime of that staff had inspired awe and not fear and loathing, when going to his grandfather's study meant a bit of candy and a warm embrace, and maybe a lesson or two in magic if he had finished his other studies for the day. You shine brightly, little Zelgadis, he would say. So brightly, even I can see you.
He used to think that meant that he let his grandfather see; a silly dream, but one he'd wished for with all of his heart. Though he'd loved his parents as most children did, Rezo was the one closest to his heart. Zelgadis had taken pride in being told he was like his grandfather, once upon a time. Then his beloved grandfather turned his life into a living nightmare, and that loving little boy departed with his shattered illusion.
Now, it seemed the illusion was back to haunt him.
Rezo knelt down when he received no response, his crimson robes pooling over the grass, and a slender hand reached out to rest on Zelgadis's head. Strong fingers threaded through his hair - real hair, violet and soft as it used to be - and tears crept up on him, stinging his eyes and blurring the world into a mass of red and blue.
No words were exchanged, but they weren't needed; Zelgadis felt, in that touch, what the human vocabulary couldn't convey. He grasped at the crimson sleeve and felt himself cry, silent, feeling his body clench up and his grip on the velvet tighten. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. His confrontation with Rezo should have been full of anger and magic, and the satisfaction of revenge, relief from his pain. Instead, he found himself bawling like a child, and he didn't know why.
His grandfather stroked his hair, sifting through the purple tangle as he used to, a long time ago. It brought Zelgadis comfort of a sort, though it was thin and bittersweet. Everything would be a memory in the morning, as his mother used to say, and for the first time in years he dreaded the thought of waking from his dreams. This one was too precious to let go of!
"Grandfather?" he had to ask, because he couldn't make himself believe it was true.
...
Notes: This was meant to take place right before the battle with Shabby.
#3: Star Ocean 2: The Second Story
Notes: First... my intentions in writing this were somewhat warped. ^^ I don't know if I even intended to finish it. I just wanted to have a little fun, and these two lovely references were too much to pass up. They inspired an original story with Kartia. ^.^ And another SO2 fic that will never see the light of day, since no one believes I write that sort of thing. >_>
Right before this scene, Lucifer was tinkering with the Crest of Annihilation, and Gabriel took exception to that. There's more, but that's all that is really necessary to know.
"...pathetic. Do you-" he tugged at Gabriel's hand, gasping for breath. "Do you think you can do it by yourself?"
The smile his superior - no, not his superior! - offered him was a gentle curve, almost serene, tinted eerily by the light of the Destruction Crest. The hand clenched around his throat loosed its hold, and Gabriel ran his fingers over the tendons of Lucifer's neck with a feathery touch. "I don't need you. Do you not understand? Your fate, the fate of the others... it does not matter. I will reign or the universe will be destroyed - even you cannot change that, my dear friend."
He narrowed his eyes, waiting for the pain. Gabriel was many things, but he was not gentle - not unless he had some other motive in mind. Surely he didn't think he was fooling anyone.
I cannot fail now. I must divert him! He would not survive a direct confrontation with Gabriel in his current condition, nor would he risk one with the others still alive. They were all loyal to him, the fools - even with all his power, Lucifer knew he could not fend all of them off once they discovered his treachery.
"You mistake me, Gabriel," he whispered, tense in expectation of those clenching, unnaturally strong fingers. "I only want to help--"
"Indeed."
The redhead's hand grasped his throat again and in the blink of an eye Lucifer's head struck the floor and his vision filled with sparks. He was dimly aware of Gabriel twisting onto the floor beside him with a graceful white sweep, leaning over him, and enveloping the world in falls of red hair. It was all he could do to gasp and blink up at him stupidly.
"I would hate to lose you at such a critical point in our plans, my darling," came the smooth voice, deceptively soft. As his vision cleared, Gabriel's porcelain perfect face came into focus, inches from his own. "I think it would be to your advantage to start helping the rest of us, rather than just yourself. What do you think?"
It's all in the eyes, they used to say. Gabriel's were hardly familiar anymore - it was as if someone else was looking at him from behind a mask, this one not so mellow or incomplete as the leader he had known for countless years. Ruthless. For the first time since entering the chamber, Lucifer wondered it he would get out alive. There was no old friendship to play on, here.
Gabriel's fingers tightened and he choked, fighting to swallow and wet his dry mouth. Say it! He could not utter a spell; he doubted he would be able to say anything. But-- "Yes." He reached up, tugged at the fingers bruising his throat. All he could do was mouth the words. "You are right." Even as he spoke them he cringed inwardly - must his pride take so many hits from the hands of this defect?
"Very good." Gabriel's eyes pierced the soul - almost as if they could see what he was thinking. "I hope you don't live up to your name, darling. You will not survive it."
Now, if that wasn't frightening, I don't know what is!
These are all completely unedited, and at least a year old. How lovely!
Doubtful, but hey! Never miss a chance to torture your audience, they say.
Each of these entries will be preceded by a few notes explaining, if necessary, what is supposed to be going on, as some of them don't start at the beginning, but only in the general vicinity of it.
#1: Xenogears
Notes: This began when I started thinking about what happened just after Sophia's death, but before the Diablos Invasion. IF Krelian found out about Shevat's deal, as he surely must have, I think he would be pissed. That's putting it mildly, really. Just before this snippet begins, a Shevite ambassador tried to renew diplomatic relations, and was thrown out after a close call with Krelian's blade.
Roni watched them go, turning his head just enough to see Krelian at the corner of his vision. "What were you thinking? This isn't the enemy we're dealing with. They-"
"I don't care."
He twisted around, cast a questioning glance at his brother. Rene shook his head. "Krelian... We can't just start murdering Shevat operatives. Don't you think I know how you feel? They make me sick whenever they slither into my presence!" He took a deep breath, and tried to keep his voice steady. "But we must put up with it for now. Nisan can't afford a war on two fronts, you know that-"
"I don't care!" Krelian spun to face them like lightning, face contorted in rage. Rene jerked back. "I don't care! They can all die, and burn in the fire that consumed Sophia!"
Roni stared, frozen with words on his lips that seemed completely inadequate. Tears swam in Krelian's azure eyes, and turned their shine into something almost mad. He looked like a man on the verge of breaking, and it shook him badly to see him shaking like that, with his hand clenched around the hilt of his sword. As if... he would even attack his friends. If he still saw the world as two shades, instead of just one.
Silence stretched between them. Krelian turned back to the wall; leaning against the table, he spoke again more softly, and the deadly edge in his voice was chilling. "I will not tolerate them any longer. If I have to deal with them one more time, I will destroy the lot of them. So, Roni, if you object to that... I suggest you make sure they have departed by tomorrow morning."
He shot another look at Rene, and was met with a nod and a shrug. "Fine. I'll see to it, sir."
There was no flinch, no admonition to drop the formality. When he turned his back on Krelian and strode for the door, his footsteps were the only sound in the room.
...
#2: Slayers
Childhood was fleeting joy. The memories were warm as the sunlight on his pale skin and sweet as honeyed wine, all waving grasses and summer roses, and the laughter of his mother chiming on the wind. That was his most precious memory, and more than once since then, he had been known to say, 'I would give up everything to have that back.'
Zelgadis opened his eyes, lids sluggish with sleep, and his wish was granted.
The breeze was heavily laden with the scent of roses, broken now and then with the sharpness of pine from the forest to the south. Pale, azure sky touched the waving yellow grasses of his field in the distance, blinding in its clarity. It was quiet, but the Greywords household was always quiet, even on sunny days like this when he was allowed outside to play. Far away from towns and other settlements, they lived peacefully on their own merits, never left wanting for anything, always solemn and hushed and solitary. The great sage would have nothing else.
The great sage was a difficult man to please. He was gentle and patient, but never happy. His robes were like blood flowing, and his voice was like his laboratory below the house - full of dark secrets. He scared Zelgadis and inspired admiration all at once. Grandfather was strong; someday he too would be strong. Maybe he would be too, if he stopped getting sick and learned how to magic things.
Wind whispered through the grasses, mournful and dry. His mother's laughter did not come with it. Zelgadis turned around slowly and scanned the fields with his unnaturally sharp eyes, but he was met with nothing but sunny fields and blue sky, and his own muddled thoughts. There was no house, yet there should have been one; no mother, or cousins, or servants. He felt a cold pit in his stomach, and it reminded him of the doom awaiting him under that tree with Lina Inverse and her swordsman friend... but in the next moment, their plight slipped from his mind and he wondered again where everything had gone.
He knew then it must be a dream. Despite the hardships and plagues his family had fallen to, the house still stood near the border of Sairaag, though its inhabitants had died long ago and left him alone with his grandfather. If Zelgadis had anything to say about it, it would always be there, waiting for him to return with his cure, free of the chains Rezo had bound him with.
Rezo. As if the fleeting thought had summoned the man, the metallic clang of his grandfather's accursed staff sounded at his back. The chimes silenced the wind and left the field eerily quiet.
He spun around again more quickly, feeling oddly unweildly, as if his body did not wish to obey his commands, and his grandfather towered over him as it had been when Zelgadis was a child. The billowing robes blotted out the sunny fiends and clear sky, a crimson stain in an otherwise idyllic dream. Would it be the same nightmare all over again? He looked down at his hands, and saw with a sickening lurch to his stomach that they were pale and soft - a child's hands. Not stone, but real flesh and blood, just as he remembered them!
What trick was this? Had the Dark Lord taken advantage of his connection with Rezo to torment him even in his sleep?
"They've gone," the Red Priest said softly, his voice filling the emptiness left by the wind. His face was turned down to Zelgadis, and he was /looking/, though his eyes were sealed shut. "You have been left alone."
Alone. The word chilled him, and he shook his head, though of course the priest couldn't see it. It occurred to him, suddenly, that perhaps Rezo wasn't speaking just about their family. "No," he replied, and cringed at his small, reedy voice. Not as long as you're here. He wanted to say it, but the words wouldn't come. He tried to feel angry instead, dredge the memory of his unasked for 'gift' to the surface, but that too was out of his reach, leaving him with that strange, clammy cold that seemed to freeze him in place under that unseeing gaze.
Rezo's invisible gaze sharpened, and it seemed he would open his eyes after all. "You know what must be done."
No! Zelgadis searched that gaze, clenching his small hands into fists. Something had changed in the priest; the mocking lilt of word and smile were gone, the set of his expression softer. He was reminded of benevolent smiles and quiet, reserved laughter, and firelight... There had been a time when the chime of that staff had inspired awe and not fear and loathing, when going to his grandfather's study meant a bit of candy and a warm embrace, and maybe a lesson or two in magic if he had finished his other studies for the day. You shine brightly, little Zelgadis, he would say. So brightly, even I can see you.
He used to think that meant that he let his grandfather see; a silly dream, but one he'd wished for with all of his heart. Though he'd loved his parents as most children did, Rezo was the one closest to his heart. Zelgadis had taken pride in being told he was like his grandfather, once upon a time. Then his beloved grandfather turned his life into a living nightmare, and that loving little boy departed with his shattered illusion.
Now, it seemed the illusion was back to haunt him.
Rezo knelt down when he received no response, his crimson robes pooling over the grass, and a slender hand reached out to rest on Zelgadis's head. Strong fingers threaded through his hair - real hair, violet and soft as it used to be - and tears crept up on him, stinging his eyes and blurring the world into a mass of red and blue.
No words were exchanged, but they weren't needed; Zelgadis felt, in that touch, what the human vocabulary couldn't convey. He grasped at the crimson sleeve and felt himself cry, silent, feeling his body clench up and his grip on the velvet tighten. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. His confrontation with Rezo should have been full of anger and magic, and the satisfaction of revenge, relief from his pain. Instead, he found himself bawling like a child, and he didn't know why.
His grandfather stroked his hair, sifting through the purple tangle as he used to, a long time ago. It brought Zelgadis comfort of a sort, though it was thin and bittersweet. Everything would be a memory in the morning, as his mother used to say, and for the first time in years he dreaded the thought of waking from his dreams. This one was too precious to let go of!
"Grandfather?" he had to ask, because he couldn't make himself believe it was true.
...
Notes: This was meant to take place right before the battle with Shabby.
#3: Star Ocean 2: The Second Story
Notes: First... my intentions in writing this were somewhat warped. ^^ I don't know if I even intended to finish it. I just wanted to have a little fun, and these two lovely references were too much to pass up. They inspired an original story with Kartia. ^.^ And another SO2 fic that will never see the light of day, since no one believes I write that sort of thing. >_>
Right before this scene, Lucifer was tinkering with the Crest of Annihilation, and Gabriel took exception to that. There's more, but that's all that is really necessary to know.
"...pathetic. Do you-" he tugged at Gabriel's hand, gasping for breath. "Do you think you can do it by yourself?"
The smile his superior - no, not his superior! - offered him was a gentle curve, almost serene, tinted eerily by the light of the Destruction Crest. The hand clenched around his throat loosed its hold, and Gabriel ran his fingers over the tendons of Lucifer's neck with a feathery touch. "I don't need you. Do you not understand? Your fate, the fate of the others... it does not matter. I will reign or the universe will be destroyed - even you cannot change that, my dear friend."
He narrowed his eyes, waiting for the pain. Gabriel was many things, but he was not gentle - not unless he had some other motive in mind. Surely he didn't think he was fooling anyone.
I cannot fail now. I must divert him! He would not survive a direct confrontation with Gabriel in his current condition, nor would he risk one with the others still alive. They were all loyal to him, the fools - even with all his power, Lucifer knew he could not fend all of them off once they discovered his treachery.
"You mistake me, Gabriel," he whispered, tense in expectation of those clenching, unnaturally strong fingers. "I only want to help--"
"Indeed."
The redhead's hand grasped his throat again and in the blink of an eye Lucifer's head struck the floor and his vision filled with sparks. He was dimly aware of Gabriel twisting onto the floor beside him with a graceful white sweep, leaning over him, and enveloping the world in falls of red hair. It was all he could do to gasp and blink up at him stupidly.
"I would hate to lose you at such a critical point in our plans, my darling," came the smooth voice, deceptively soft. As his vision cleared, Gabriel's porcelain perfect face came into focus, inches from his own. "I think it would be to your advantage to start helping the rest of us, rather than just yourself. What do you think?"
It's all in the eyes, they used to say. Gabriel's were hardly familiar anymore - it was as if someone else was looking at him from behind a mask, this one not so mellow or incomplete as the leader he had known for countless years. Ruthless. For the first time since entering the chamber, Lucifer wondered it he would get out alive. There was no old friendship to play on, here.
Gabriel's fingers tightened and he choked, fighting to swallow and wet his dry mouth. Say it! He could not utter a spell; he doubted he would be able to say anything. But-- "Yes." He reached up, tugged at the fingers bruising his throat. All he could do was mouth the words. "You are right." Even as he spoke them he cringed inwardly - must his pride take so many hits from the hands of this defect?
"Very good." Gabriel's eyes pierced the soul - almost as if they could see what he was thinking. "I hope you don't live up to your name, darling. You will not survive it."
Now, if that wasn't frightening, I don't know what is!
These are all completely unedited, and at least a year old. How lovely!