Categories > Games > Final Fantasy X > sky and sea
She asked me one question when I first stepped into the chamber, and her voice was both young and old and it was a memory of sky and sea. She asked me one question, and I had not known the answer at first.
"Who are you?" she asked, and I stood there, frozen.
There was silence and it was heavy with one thousand years of quiet sorrow. I bowed my head, my hair hiding my eyes.
I told her my name was Yuna. Yuna, for that was the name my father had given me; the name that my mother had found sweet and a bit strange but one she had loved anyway. For a short second I thought I heard laughter, very much like a child's, genuine and blithe, but it was stilled before it managed to fly free.
"Yes. I know your name---I have known you for a long time." She was gentle, familiar. "You are called Yuna, the daughter of Braska. But who are you?"
The snatches of the hymn were slipping from my mind. She had stopped singing it and I tried to grab hold, but it simply faded and disappeared. I did not have her grace or beauty to sing it on my own and I faltered, searching for the answer in the sudden silence. Her voice was the voice that I had heard since I was a child, more calming than the murmur of the wind and the waves, the echo that had been my companion in those long nights I had spent in the temple, absorbed in my studies.
Such a simple question, yet I knew not the answer then.
Who am I, I wondered? I am Yuna, I'm Braska's daughter. I'm an apprentice in Besaid. I am but another follower of Yevon, searching for atonement for our sins. I am a child who has had to watch too many die, I am a girl who has seen too few sunsets. I am the sea and I am the sky and I am the sand. I am Spira.
I am a summoner, I told her. A summoner, like my father before me.
"Yes." This time it was a sigh as the fayth relinquished her powers to me. Her voice rang with something akin to triumph as the hymn filled the empty chamber again. "Yes, my love, you are."
"Who are you?" she asked, and I stood there, frozen.
There was silence and it was heavy with one thousand years of quiet sorrow. I bowed my head, my hair hiding my eyes.
I told her my name was Yuna. Yuna, for that was the name my father had given me; the name that my mother had found sweet and a bit strange but one she had loved anyway. For a short second I thought I heard laughter, very much like a child's, genuine and blithe, but it was stilled before it managed to fly free.
"Yes. I know your name---I have known you for a long time." She was gentle, familiar. "You are called Yuna, the daughter of Braska. But who are you?"
The snatches of the hymn were slipping from my mind. She had stopped singing it and I tried to grab hold, but it simply faded and disappeared. I did not have her grace or beauty to sing it on my own and I faltered, searching for the answer in the sudden silence. Her voice was the voice that I had heard since I was a child, more calming than the murmur of the wind and the waves, the echo that had been my companion in those long nights I had spent in the temple, absorbed in my studies.
Such a simple question, yet I knew not the answer then.
Who am I, I wondered? I am Yuna, I'm Braska's daughter. I'm an apprentice in Besaid. I am but another follower of Yevon, searching for atonement for our sins. I am a child who has had to watch too many die, I am a girl who has seen too few sunsets. I am the sea and I am the sky and I am the sand. I am Spira.
I am a summoner, I told her. A summoner, like my father before me.
"Yes." This time it was a sigh as the fayth relinquished her powers to me. Her voice rang with something akin to triumph as the hymn filled the empty chamber again. "Yes, my love, you are."
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