Categories > Games > Final Fantasy X > Red and Black
This is a Final Fantasy X fan fiction based on characters owned by Square-Enix.
Black and Red
Summary: Lulu reunites with a childhood love.
Shortly after the beginning of Braska's Calm.
--
Part 1. An Unlikely Girl From Besaid
Lulu was twelve then. Flat-chested, lanky and utterly devoid of the stormy poise of her later womanhood. She thought he was handsome, this Sir Auron. She first saw him on a news-sphere in the dishroom of her aunt's alchemy shop.
"All peoples of Yevon may rejoice today as we can confirm that the recent pilgrimage of an unlikely trio has succeeded in vanquishing Sin and bringing to a new calm to Spira."
She remembered it well, that early blush of giddy lust. Dishwater to her elbows, sound and images of this "unlikely trio" being broadcast through the news-sphere over the glug and sloosh of water as she filled and emptied the used potion containers.
There was Sir Jecht, the loud blitzer who dominated the footage with his brash antics and bared torso. He wasn't badly built, but his insipid wisecracks and blitzball obsession reminded her a bit too much of Wakka, --and when she was only twelve, Wakka was an obnoxious older boy who wouldn't simply leave her be.
There was Lord Braska, too. While this was before Yuna made her way to Besaid, Lulu's heart soared in admiration for this man. Of course, it was only proper for a Yevonite to revere their summoners, but Braska was different than the high summoners in the temple, ever-enshrined in ancient marble. He was real. He was kind-eyed and utterly disarming. His face was an honest one that looked directly at you and he spoke the exact right words with a serene cadence. In spirit and appearance, he reminded of her of a bird, or maybe a flower.
And then, of course, there was Sir Auron. He was the youngest one, she knew -- The Young Sir Auron of the Warrior Monks of Bevelle, was how they often to referred to him. It wasn't until much later that she learned he'd been quietly and unjustifiably excommunicated from the Warrior Monks years before he'd even set upon the pilgrimage. Of course, in the wake of Braska's calm, the Monks of Bevelle had been all too eager to reclaim him as an esteemed brother.
Auron. She had glanced at the sphere upon hearing the name. It was a nice name. An unusual name. Not a Besaid name, certainly --people here were given silly juvenile monikers like Chappu and Wakka and Lulu and Letty. Too much wine at the naming ceremonies, she supposed.
Auron was twenty-five years old. Young, but more than twice her age and probably dead --the news-sphere hadn't yet confirmed the fate of the guardians but in all of Spiran history not a single human was known to survive a battle with Sin. Yet nothing could subside the sudden flare of girlish thrill that overtook her. He seemed to be the quiet one of the trio and painfully ill at ease when the camera swung in his direction. She liked his colors. Lovely dark shades of red and black, with long raven locks that glistened silver in the light. Much like Lulu's own hair, though she hadn't quite learned to appreciate it, yet. He cut a tall and royal figure, wrapped almost entirely in a billowing scarlet robe, save his taut and beautiful sword-arm.
She wished to know the color of his eyes, but he sighed and looked away from the camera in the only decent shot of his face. Smooth and angular planes --almost feminine or feline in structure, his delicate visage seemed almost at odds with his masculine carriage. And his voice! So smoky and dark, it fell like spider-silk onto her ears. He spoke only two calm words, but it lent him a certain authority that neither his serene Lord summoner nor the other, older Guardian could muster. "Leave me."
His spirit, she determined, was that of a tree. A tall, graceful tree to Braska's bird. Perhaps an evergreen - likely a pine.
The news-sphere didn't have much footage to broadcast -there were no cheering crowds to wave off pilgrimages in Spira these days nor cameras ready to sphere them, particularly one consisting of a fallen summoner, an excommunicated monk and a crazed homeless drunk claiming to be from Zanarkand.
What little footage they did have, however, the news-sphere showed almost nightly for a matter of months, much to Lulu's private, girlish joy. There was some stunning, unnameable power this Sir Auron possessed, she was certain. She recognized this even as an awkward girl of twelve, just cracking the bud of womanhood on the quiet warm island of Besaid.
Black and Red
Summary: Lulu reunites with a childhood love.
Shortly after the beginning of Braska's Calm.
--
Part 1. An Unlikely Girl From Besaid
Lulu was twelve then. Flat-chested, lanky and utterly devoid of the stormy poise of her later womanhood. She thought he was handsome, this Sir Auron. She first saw him on a news-sphere in the dishroom of her aunt's alchemy shop.
"All peoples of Yevon may rejoice today as we can confirm that the recent pilgrimage of an unlikely trio has succeeded in vanquishing Sin and bringing to a new calm to Spira."
She remembered it well, that early blush of giddy lust. Dishwater to her elbows, sound and images of this "unlikely trio" being broadcast through the news-sphere over the glug and sloosh of water as she filled and emptied the used potion containers.
There was Sir Jecht, the loud blitzer who dominated the footage with his brash antics and bared torso. He wasn't badly built, but his insipid wisecracks and blitzball obsession reminded her a bit too much of Wakka, --and when she was only twelve, Wakka was an obnoxious older boy who wouldn't simply leave her be.
There was Lord Braska, too. While this was before Yuna made her way to Besaid, Lulu's heart soared in admiration for this man. Of course, it was only proper for a Yevonite to revere their summoners, but Braska was different than the high summoners in the temple, ever-enshrined in ancient marble. He was real. He was kind-eyed and utterly disarming. His face was an honest one that looked directly at you and he spoke the exact right words with a serene cadence. In spirit and appearance, he reminded of her of a bird, or maybe a flower.
And then, of course, there was Sir Auron. He was the youngest one, she knew -- The Young Sir Auron of the Warrior Monks of Bevelle, was how they often to referred to him. It wasn't until much later that she learned he'd been quietly and unjustifiably excommunicated from the Warrior Monks years before he'd even set upon the pilgrimage. Of course, in the wake of Braska's calm, the Monks of Bevelle had been all too eager to reclaim him as an esteemed brother.
Auron. She had glanced at the sphere upon hearing the name. It was a nice name. An unusual name. Not a Besaid name, certainly --people here were given silly juvenile monikers like Chappu and Wakka and Lulu and Letty. Too much wine at the naming ceremonies, she supposed.
Auron was twenty-five years old. Young, but more than twice her age and probably dead --the news-sphere hadn't yet confirmed the fate of the guardians but in all of Spiran history not a single human was known to survive a battle with Sin. Yet nothing could subside the sudden flare of girlish thrill that overtook her. He seemed to be the quiet one of the trio and painfully ill at ease when the camera swung in his direction. She liked his colors. Lovely dark shades of red and black, with long raven locks that glistened silver in the light. Much like Lulu's own hair, though she hadn't quite learned to appreciate it, yet. He cut a tall and royal figure, wrapped almost entirely in a billowing scarlet robe, save his taut and beautiful sword-arm.
She wished to know the color of his eyes, but he sighed and looked away from the camera in the only decent shot of his face. Smooth and angular planes --almost feminine or feline in structure, his delicate visage seemed almost at odds with his masculine carriage. And his voice! So smoky and dark, it fell like spider-silk onto her ears. He spoke only two calm words, but it lent him a certain authority that neither his serene Lord summoner nor the other, older Guardian could muster. "Leave me."
His spirit, she determined, was that of a tree. A tall, graceful tree to Braska's bird. Perhaps an evergreen - likely a pine.
The news-sphere didn't have much footage to broadcast -there were no cheering crowds to wave off pilgrimages in Spira these days nor cameras ready to sphere them, particularly one consisting of a fallen summoner, an excommunicated monk and a crazed homeless drunk claiming to be from Zanarkand.
What little footage they did have, however, the news-sphere showed almost nightly for a matter of months, much to Lulu's private, girlish joy. There was some stunning, unnameable power this Sir Auron possessed, she was certain. She recognized this even as an awkward girl of twelve, just cracking the bud of womanhood on the quiet warm island of Besaid.
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