Categories > Games > Final Fantasy X > Yevonite to Al Bhed
A Matter of Opinion
1 reviewA string of one-shots written around the theme of Wakka and Rikku's love-hate-**** relationship. Shown in chronological order here.
2Moving
"So," she said. The word was pregnant. It filled the space between them, pushing them back from one another. It was a word of seperation.
"Yeah," he replied, leaning against the sturdy trunk of a tree, a tree like the one they'd sortamaybekinda shared their first kiss under. The thought of that panged, once, in her chest. It hurt to look at him, see the stubborn in his face, see the cold drawing in on his warm features, freezing over the smile and the hound-brown eyes. It wasn't... fair.
"Now you know," she said, hitching her shoulder while one finger twirled a long braid nervously. She stroked the feather at the end, feeling its softness without really feeling it.
"Yeah, I do." He was all closed off, walled like Bevelle, walled like Yunie, shut away from her. She looked down at her feet, not wanting to face him and his Yevonite Justice. She heard him shift, his shirt catching against the bark with a woody rasping noise. "Everything you believe in... it goes against everything I've ever believed in," he sounded... confused, almost. Like he was trying to wrap his head around it, and it wasn't quite fitting. A hat that was too small. Maybe it was his hair. The idea of her snipping it off late in the night flitted across her mind ridiculously for about two seconds, but then reality set back in. He didn't want her, she was Al Bhed. She was Al Bhed, he didn't want her. Wonderful.
"It didn't bother me... your beliefs." She was upset at how sad her voice sounded, how small and beaten down her words were. She wanted to be strong, to show him that she didn't care. She wanted to be like him, but couldn't. She was all breaking inside, bits of her crumbling away. She raised her head again, meeting his eyes defiantly to show him she wasn't scared or hurt, even if it was a lie; even if he could see the lie on her face. He snorted, looking away from her.
"It wouldn't bother an Al Bhed heathen."
Not Rikku/. Just an Al Bhed heathen. Not even /the Al Bhed heathen. She swallowed hard, willing the lump of unhappiness in her throat to vanish. It disobeyed merrily.
"I have a name," she said, and the words came out all tumbled down and not angry and righteous like she wanted to be. Maybe believing in Yevon made you righteous and strong. Maybe not believing made you weak. Could she... believe in Yevon? The thought made her heart constrict. She didn't want limits, she wanted freedom. Yevon was limits and rules and laws and words to be obeyed. He stepped away from the tree, eyes up and over her head, and he started to walk away, back towards where the others were camped for the night. She watched him go, her chest thudding hard. "I have a name!" She felt her breath catching hard in her throat and she fell to her knees, bruising them on the gravel. Her voice cracked, "I have a name, dammit, Wakka, don't! I have a /name/!"
His voice carried back to her, soft and bitter;
"No, you don't."
"Yeah," he replied, leaning against the sturdy trunk of a tree, a tree like the one they'd sortamaybekinda shared their first kiss under. The thought of that panged, once, in her chest. It hurt to look at him, see the stubborn in his face, see the cold drawing in on his warm features, freezing over the smile and the hound-brown eyes. It wasn't... fair.
"Now you know," she said, hitching her shoulder while one finger twirled a long braid nervously. She stroked the feather at the end, feeling its softness without really feeling it.
"Yeah, I do." He was all closed off, walled like Bevelle, walled like Yunie, shut away from her. She looked down at her feet, not wanting to face him and his Yevonite Justice. She heard him shift, his shirt catching against the bark with a woody rasping noise. "Everything you believe in... it goes against everything I've ever believed in," he sounded... confused, almost. Like he was trying to wrap his head around it, and it wasn't quite fitting. A hat that was too small. Maybe it was his hair. The idea of her snipping it off late in the night flitted across her mind ridiculously for about two seconds, but then reality set back in. He didn't want her, she was Al Bhed. She was Al Bhed, he didn't want her. Wonderful.
"It didn't bother me... your beliefs." She was upset at how sad her voice sounded, how small and beaten down her words were. She wanted to be strong, to show him that she didn't care. She wanted to be like him, but couldn't. She was all breaking inside, bits of her crumbling away. She raised her head again, meeting his eyes defiantly to show him she wasn't scared or hurt, even if it was a lie; even if he could see the lie on her face. He snorted, looking away from her.
"It wouldn't bother an Al Bhed heathen."
Not Rikku/. Just an Al Bhed heathen. Not even /the Al Bhed heathen. She swallowed hard, willing the lump of unhappiness in her throat to vanish. It disobeyed merrily.
"I have a name," she said, and the words came out all tumbled down and not angry and righteous like she wanted to be. Maybe believing in Yevon made you righteous and strong. Maybe not believing made you weak. Could she... believe in Yevon? The thought made her heart constrict. She didn't want limits, she wanted freedom. Yevon was limits and rules and laws and words to be obeyed. He stepped away from the tree, eyes up and over her head, and he started to walk away, back towards where the others were camped for the night. She watched him go, her chest thudding hard. "I have a name!" She felt her breath catching hard in her throat and she fell to her knees, bruising them on the gravel. Her voice cracked, "I have a name, dammit, Wakka, don't! I have a /name/!"
His voice carried back to her, soft and bitter;
"No, you don't."
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