There’s an old saying in Spira. It’s going out of fashion now, too old, too obsolete, too depressing for it reminds those who have survived of dangerous times and the young begin to wonder about them. No one wants to risk it, fearing they’d invoke someone’s wrath, and the damage from the last time one had been confronted was still new to the whole world.
‘The guado do not dream. They do not bleed. They are tied to the farplane so tightly they are either already dead or immortal. Let them watch the dead, and we’ll rule the living.’
Only the very old and wise, such as Maechen would manage to remember beyond the first line, and if he told you, he’d follow up with dissertation about it and would refuse to let you leave without listening to it.
It is just as well that no one else remembers it and thinks those who can are babbling senile idiots, for there is almost no truth to it.
The guado can dream, just like all other races in Spira. They sleep, they wake, they dream… they wonder what it all means.
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In the past Jyscal’s dreams were blank, full of nothingness or so easily forgotten they were never recalled. On occasion he’d dream of Juuno, often brought on by a dispute between him and Seymour.
But now, in between his blank or petty dreams, he’d remember.
His room was dark, the only light coming from the hall.
He hadn’t heard them. He hadn’t seen them.
He had shed his coat when arms—strong arms—wrapped around him. One around his chest and arms so he couldn’t struggle, the other around his face so he couldn’t yell out.
Then there was Seymour in the doorway. He closed his eyes and walked towards him, as if in pain. No, not pain. Seymour opened his eyes and pulled his arm back, clumsily holding a large knife. That wasn’t pain in Seymour’s eyes, it was fear. Still, he only hesitated for a second before the knife came down.
Everything went red. Everything was pain. He didn’t know if he was still standing, but he could still feel his captor’s arms around him. There was another clumsy strike, he felt it, but it had hit home. He felt no pain, just the impact.
Who was Seymour afraid of? Who had put him up to it? Who was it that mad Seymour more afraid of them than of him?
He’d find them. He’d ruin them. And only then would he go after Seymour. Only then.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………
No one else would be up. Not anyone who actually belonged here.
Despite the dark, Jyscal felt comfortable as he walked down the halls. The assassins weren’t after him.
Seymour was an idiot. He knew Seymour could never have pulled off that murder by himself. He couldn’t even hold the knife right; there was someone else involved. Until he thought that person had returned, he would feel safe.
He didn’t need the light on in the palace. It was his home and he’d memorized it… just as Juuno had. The memory sent a chill al over his body and he pulled his housecoat tighter. Just as he reached the stairs, he noticed the varnished banister shining slightly.
That shouldn’t be possible in the middle of the night. Everyone should be in bed… Which idiot left their light on?
Looking down the hall, he noticed the blitzball player standing in the doorway of a room. He was whispering to someone. It must not have been his room.
If these freeloaders were going to use his home for midnight meetings, he’d prove them wrong.
Wakka closed the door and sent the entire palace into darkness. Light or not, Jyscal knew his way around better than anyone. Even Seymour, even Anzi, and he’d be damned if anyone made a fool of him again in the dark.
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She was running again, afraid she’d die every time she tripped. It was that dream again… no, it was different. There was no one running alongside of her, no one holding her hand. No Shuyin. No Tidus. No one.
She ran out of the hallway and skidded to a stop when she found herself in the farplane glen.
She walked forward, slowly. She looked around for someone. Lenne. Tidus. Shuyin. Her friends. Her enemies. The fayth even.
There was no one.
She called out.
There was no answer.
She looked around again.
There was no one.
She whistled.
There was a shriek and it seemed as if the air itself parted, revealing someone.
She ran to them. They were so close, why did it take so long to reach them?
It was Seymour. He was clutching his stomach, he was in pain, but there was no blood. He couldn’t use his legs. He couldn’t even crawl to her. He was lying on the ground. He put out one arm and tried to lift himself.
She heard a strange noise, someone—no something—screamed, and his arm broke. She saw it break. Somewhere under his sleeve bone had to be jutting out. The arm collapsed to the ground.
He lifted his head and looked at her.
She took a step back, not knowing why, but not wanting to be near him. Not even when he was like this.
He reached out with his broken hand—at least one finger was broken. He said something—one word, one syllable. A wind picked up, blowing flowers around in the air and silencing him.
Seymour burst into thousands of pyreflies; only then did she move for him, did she reach for him. But there was nothing but pyreflies, pyreflies turning into butterflies. Butterflies, all colors of the rainbow, and she was chasing after them until they lead her into somewhere dark.
The butterflies blended into the darkness and she wondered where she was.
There was a door. It looked so familiar. She didn’t realize what it was until she lifted it and pushed it out of the way and entered the next room. She had just walked out of the Chamber of the Fayth.
She was atop a flight of stairs. Down in the antechamber, there was Seymour, his back to her.
"Seymour!" she shouted, and went down the stairs, reaching for him.
Only when her foot left the stairs did he turn around.
"Seymour!" she shouted again.
He smiled. He put his hands on her arms. She smiled back.
He started to speak, except all she heard was gibberish.
"I don’t know, she said.
He seemed to understand her. He wasn’t angry or confused at what she said, but he kept on talking. He kept on asking her question after question and she kept answering: "I don’t know!"
He was never angry at her. He was never confused by her reaction or indecision. But she grew angrier; she grew frustrated. She couldn’t understand him! ‘Make sense, damn you, make sense’ she wanted to scream but instead yelled "You killed your father!"
She swiped at him and he stepped back, in pain, and fell to the floor. She looked at her hand, wondering what she had done, and saw the sword—the sword Wakka had given to Tidus years ago, the one he wanted his brother to take after joining the crusaders—in her hands.
She was in her gi, her obi, her long purple skirt, but she held the sword in her hands.
She bent down next to Seymour. His breath rattled as he slowly exhaled. He blinked, then remembered to inhale, rattling again.
This time, instead of reaching for his eyes, she reached for his hair. She stroked the short bangs, petted the large lock that fell over his face. It felt like silk, like flowers.
"Yuna…" he breathed.
She smiled at him. He was down from her own blow, but all she could do was smile. She didn’t know why, she didn’t think about it. She had struck him down and now she was next to him and comforting him.
"Do you pity me now?" he asked. His eyes were going faint, becoming milky. There was little time.
"No," she said, petting his hair one last time.
He smiled. His eyes closed. He didn’t move, but she could hear his voice. "Thank you."
"I don’t know," she said, looking at her hands in her lap. There was no more sword.
Everything faded away.
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"Lu?" Wakka asked, knocking on the door. "Lu, I gotta talk to ya!"
"Wakka, do you have ANY idea what time it is?" she asked angrily."
"Yeah, this way no one’s gonna listen in on us," he said.
The door opened. Lulu was wearing a small and filmy negligée with nothing under it. He long hair was loose and mildly tangled. "You have two seconds, and I’m up here," she said.
"Anzi’s in big trouble," Wakka said.
"How big?" Lulu asked.
"Spira’s most wanted big."
"Come on in," she said.
Wakka carefully stepped into he room as quietly as possible and closed the door just as meticulously.
"What are you doing?" Lulu asked.
"Keep your voice down," he said. "Who’s watching who?"
"Auron’s posted just outside Yuna’s room. Rikku’s in Seymour’s room and Paine’s with Anzi."
"Lu, this place is dangerous," he said, putting a hand on her arm. Nowhere near the negligée, just her arm. Still, she pushed it away.
"With or without assassins?" she asked, taking a step away from him.
"Lu, she leaves, they are gonna kill each other, or themselves."
"Wakka, she is not going to save them," Lulu said. "She was here last time one of them died, remember? She has no power to stop them. I think it’s best that she leaves here. She’s spent almost thirty years watching them cause as much destruction as Sin and has never once been able to stop them. This is a warzone, with or without her, and with or without assassins."
"No, Lu. That’s just it. She helped Seymour kill Jyscal. That’s why he sent her off with Auron and he ran off to Baaj. Lu, he was gonna get himself killed to protect her!"
"You’re lying," Lulu said. "Who told you, Auron? Does she look like—"?
"Seymour did," Wakka said.
"Seymour told you?"
"Seymour told Yuna. I wasn’t really supposed to be listening. Yuna already knows and she’s got her own problems. You’re the only one I could tell. I figured you’d know what to do."
"Wakka, that’s not right. She couldn’—"
"She could." They both turned to the door and Jyscal was in front of it, having left it wide open. "You’d be surprised as to what she’s capable of if she feels forced into it."
"Well, shit," Wakka said.
"What are you doing in my bedroom?" Lulu demanded.
"Lady, I still hold myself as a married man, widower or not. I am not interested and in our culture you are hardly giving as much of a show as you think."
"You still have no right to come in here without permission!" Lulu said.
"Lady, I live here. This is my house, not yours. I am lord here and you are merely visiting foreigners. I can do whatever I want."
"No you can’t" Wakka exclaimed. "I’m not gonna let you TOUCH Anzi!"
"Anzi is not in danger," Jyscal said calmly.
"And knock that off, it’s creepy!" Wakka said.
"I recommend you find something quieter to do before you wake up the others," Jyscal said "But as I said, I promise nothing shall happen to Anzi. Were anything to happen to her… I do not know what I would do. But I will protect her with my own life if I have to." Jyscal smiled and gave a slight bow. He left as quietly as he came and disappeared into the dark hallway.
"Lu, I am really, really scared," Wakka said.
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"OW!" Auron yelled as the door behind his head moved backwards and it hit the doorframe.
"Sorry," Yuna said.
"You’re up early," he said, standing up.
"I’ve had a lot on my mind, lately. It’s been keeping me up."
Auron yawned.
"Where’s Seymour?"
"He’s not my problem."
"Yeah, but he’s mine. I married him."
"That’s your problem," Auron said. "You marry ‘em, they’re yours."
"You’re not helpful."
"I get that a lot these days," he said. "I’m a guardian. You want advice, ask someone else."
"Actually, that’s the last thing I want," she said. "I was just hoping you could watch him a bit. I think he’s in trouble."
"Yuna, he’s a murderer, he fights with his father by throwing things and there are people out to kill him."
"That’s why I think he’s in trouble."
"I don’t like him."
"Fine, but he’s not going to kill you. He didn’t before."
"I was already dead."
"Well so was he, now move, I want breakfast."
……………………………………………………………………………………………………..
Seymour was outside. Jyscal seemed unconcerned about the fact that he was out in the open, or that he was wielding a large sharp object– and badly.
"That’s his stupid decision," Jyscal had said to Paine.
"The first one," she had said, and went to go find him.
"Hi…" Rikku greeted her, then yawned. "…Paine. Can you watch him? I’ve been here since morning and Auron decided to be a butthead."
"I heard," Paine said. "Yeah, sure. You take a nap or something."
Rikku nodded, then nodded off where she was sitting.
"If I hadn’t heard Rikku shrieking and found out about you fighting with Auron, I’d have thought you were just really bad at using a sword."
"I am," he said, swinging the sword at the block of wood on the torched stump, missing by a foot.
Paine backed up a step, not wanting to see him when his aim got worse.
"What happened?"
"He compared me to Tidus."
"And why are you practicing to cut your own foot off anyway?"
"Because I’m tired of being useless. I’m tired of not being able to defend myself."
"You’re not tired, Rikku is. You’re just pissed."
"Fine, I’m pissed." This time he managed to actually hit the stump.
"You’re pissed about Yuna."
"Congratulations, you can spot the obvious. Maybe you can count how many fingers I’m going to give you."
"Yuna doesn’t want someone to defend her," Paine said, side stepping as he missed again and lost his grip on the sword, which landed dangerously close to her feet. Rikku didn’t wake up.
"I know what Yuna wants!" he yelled. "She wants someone pretty and dumb and perfect. She wants some blonde fish and I told her that if that’s what she wants, she can go find one and pretend I don’t exist. I’m just not going to stand here and wait for her or one of you to save me every time a spider enters the room."
"You need help."
"No thank you."
"That wasn’t an offer. You’re going to take your own damn head off."
"Good, then I won’t have to deal with you people any longer. I am either going to learn to do this myself or I am going to die trying."
"I’m sure Yuna’d appreciate the latter."
"Fuck off!"
Paine smiled. "You really are an arrogant son of a—"
He awkwardly lifted the sword and aimed it at her. "Finish that sentence and I WILL kill you."
"I never said I was complaining," Paine said. "And I’m not leaving. You wanna learn how to use a sword, gimme that thing."
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"Anzi," Jyscal said, approaching her from behind as she was cleaning the kitchen.
"I don’t want to talk to you."
"Anzi, I understand your… position. However, I cannot let you leave here."
"I’m not going anywhere until this mess is over. I know I could be a target too. Where’d Wakka go?"
"I dismissed him."
"Well, bring him back."
"I wanted to talk to you privately. Anzi, you are not leaving here. Not now, not soon. Not ever. I refuse to lose you over him as I did Juuno."
"Listen you---aaa!" she yelled as he grabbed her before she could turn around. He looped his arms around her, preventing her from struggling.
"I will never, ever hurt you, Anzi. And I will never, ever lose you. I want you to stay out of the way Anzi. And I want you to be very, very careful. Understand?"
"Put he down!" she yelled, slapping him in the face with her dirty rag as best she could.
He took his arms away and placed them around her waist. "All I ask is that you understand. That is all. I do not care how much time it takes."
He lightly touched her hair and then left.
He gestured for Wakka to go back in the kitchen, earning a nasty look from the blitzball player. He could care less from a threat form a retired sports captain. What did catch his attention was Sir Auron having joined Wakka in the hallway, but not joining him to watch Anzi. Instead, he approached Jyscal. "Do not tell me you have feelings for her."
"My feelings for her are that of a long-time friend. She could never have more intimate feelings for me and we would both consider it betrayal to her and to my wife if I began to have them. I’m sure this is something none of you could ever understand."