|Skeren Dreamera (skeren) wrote,|
@ 2009-11-15 17:16:00
|Entry tags:||ffix, ffvii, kuja, yazoo|
Title: Guardian Spirit
Characters: Yazoo, Kuja
Warnings: Mentions of death
Word count: 372
Summary: It wasn't often he saw someone prettier than himself
A/N: This one was due the fifteenth. Last one for the moment, hopefully the last few will be done soon.
It was a bit fascinating, watching the man work. If he’d still been alive he would have applauded the way he manipulated everyone into his bidding, but instead, he simply watched, waiting for a moment when he’d have his opportunity. He wasn’t like the Eidolons that this corner of the Lifestream had formed for its summons.
Nor was he like those interesting constructs that Kuja was so good at creating. He had been more, during the brief months he’d lived, and it left him at a loss as to how to reach out and approach the intensely pretty and twisted man that seemed intent on making his points. It was clear he was lonely.
Someone so lovely, lovelier than himself even, shouldn’t be so alone. The very idea made him do everything he could to aid him, blow minor difficulties into the hands of his enemies. It wasn’t much, just the manipulation of the Mist that permeated the lands when they were stupid enough to get near.
It took him longer to make himself a body again. The Mist wasn’t like the Lifestream. It didn’t have tangible sentience even if the planet under it did.
He was almost too late when it came to it. A vicious battle was being fought, reminiscent of one his brothers had fought before his creation and just as unfortunate.
But Kuja still lived. Zidane hadn’t reached him, not quickly enough, and he had his chance, snatching the wounded figure to him as the tree started to twist around them, leaving the blond to himself. If he followed, so be it, that would be for Kuja to deal with. Later, when he was patched back together.
First he had to pull him back to consciousness and let him know he’d been watching. Let him know that he hadn’t been alone.
He could do at least that much, and perhaps, Kuja would think of him like he’d been thought of, a reflection that was somehow even prettier than himself.
Yazoo knew it could hurt nothing to try, after all, Kuja had already made his point, so he was free to spend what time he had left as he liked.
Even if not everyone would see if that way.