Categories > Games > Final Fantasy XII > Claret Sky
13. That which touches
Balthier/Vaan - post-canon
Disclaimers still apply.
Sorry, took the weekend off for Homecoming.
Pseudo-summary: So yes, all bets have been off for a little while, now that Balthier and Vaan are no longer on easy speaking terms. Balthier certainly doesn't know what's really going on (although he knows what he sees), and it wouldn't be fair for us to know more than he does.
--
Balthier considers the list of things he does not like. Desert heat features prominently, as does the biting cold of Mount Bur-Omisace. Small children with sticky hands.
At the moment, he cannot think of anything he dislikes more than foppish Rozarrian princelings.
Margrace waits for them at the foot of the mountain, and he blathers something about his "little birds" when Penelo, taken aback, asks him how he knew to come. There is a sharp edge to Penelo's voice, and Balthier does not bother to hide his smirk. He shrugs when Fran raises a pale brow.
Margrace walks beside Vaan, his dark hair whipping over his head, and Balthier cannot hear what they are saying over the constant wind that puts an ache in his ears and erodes his nerves fibre by fibre.
--
The Nu Mou are quiet and suspicious, and they do not speak beyond the trite blessings in the name of Faram.
The Kiltias are hospitable as ever, and they house the travellers in warm rooms. They beg patience, and say that they require time to consult with the senior Acolytes.
Balthier thinks an uncharitable thought about the Father of Light when the days stretch out, and he sits before the open window often, dissembling and cleaning his gun with soft cloths and oils.
He sees Vaan often, standing under the open sky with Margrace. There is a tension still to Vaan's shoulders, but he sees Vaan smile. Balthier does not turn away when Vaan glances up suddenly and sees him watching. Vaan's eyes are bright against the trodden snow around him. The contact only breaks when Margrace touches Vaan's shoulder and gestures him away.
It is after the Strahl sighs under his hands and the sky arches above his head that Balthier unclenches his teeth.
--
Balthier tells the petitioner a false name, and he takes a hunt in the Paramina Rift.
He blinks when Fran flicks an ear without looking up from the musty tome cradled in her hands.
"I have not desire to participate," she says. But then she glances up as if she finds an idea. "Perhaps you hunt with Vaan. He grows more restless with each passing day. Inactivity suits him little more than it does you."
Balthier is forcibly reminded just how much she sees and hears.
"I should hope that I am well capable of handling a simple hunt alone," Balthier says, and he turns, and he stops.
Vaan stands before him, something tentative in his eyes, and Balthier realizes they have been speaking again, he and Fran.
He decides that his distaste for the itches of confusion rivals perhaps even that for Margrace.
--
The Mark is a monstrous Garuda-Egi, hardened and vicious with age. Strings of venom hang from its crooked claws, tangling in the blackened trees below.
Balthier loads Dark Shot into the Fomalhaut, and his first two attacks shred the diver's wings. The last shatters the reptilian skull.
He glances back at Vaan, who leans the Zodiac Spear in the snow and wraps an arm around it before tilting his head gently. The silence is suffocated by the falling snow until it is as if the sky is siphoning away the sound, and Balthier frowns.
"If you had no intention of pulling your weight, I confess to incomprehension concerning your motives in following me on this hunt," Balthier says, somewhat stiffly.
There is a flicker that may be a smile, but it is gone before Balthier can identify it.
"Did you need help?" Vaan says.
Balthier rolls his eyes and turns away.
--
The blizzard comes upon them suddenly, white flurries whipping on the winds.
Balthier closes his eyes against the stinging ice, and he leans against the gale. The snow shifts and slips underfoot. Balthier covers his mouth with a hand, creating a pocket of calm air in which he can breathe, and he wishes for nothing more than to summon Belias and level the bloody mountain with Hellfire.
Balthier's hand quickly numbs, and he flexes it.
There is a stomach-twisting moment in which his boot treads on thin air, but before he can fall, cold hands wrap around his wrists and warm breath brushes over his neck.
"We have to find shelter if we don't want to get frostbite," Vaan shouts in his ear.
Balthier nods. He has forgotten Vaan's scent, he realizes. He leans into the heat.
"This cannot be natural," Balthier says through gritted teeth. He cracks his eye open, and in the white blur, he sees Vaan twisting his head around.
"Hold on," Vaan says. "I think I see something."
Then, Vaan is gone, and the cold is sharper than ever. It is so bright that Balthier sees red when he closes his eyes. There is motion ahead, and Balthier staggers as he steps forward.
A curious warmth seeps over his feet and rises up his legs until it envelopes him. Balthier cannot tell if he still moves, but he breathes in, and the heat swims through his lungs into his blood. His eyelids become too heavy to bear, and he lets them drift shut.
Suddenly, there are cold fingers digging into his arms and a hoarse voice shouting in his face.
"Balthier!"
Balthier tries to tug away, back into the warm.
"Balthier, wake up! It's Leshach! Balthier, it cast Sleepga, and if you sleep now, you'll never wake up, so, Balthier!"
The cold hands strike his face, and Balthier gathers the remnants of his control. He bites hard into the side of his cheek.
Hot blood floods his mouth, and Balthier winces. He is dizzy, and he feels himself sway, but he can see Vaan's red, snow-burned eyes, and he nods. He draws on his magick, and the tight sensation of lightning crackles down his fist like tiny pins.
Vaan is rushing forward, spear extended out in a thrust, and lightning arcs, skittering over the electrum in the Entite's core.
--
TBC
Balthier/Vaan - post-canon
Disclaimers still apply.
Sorry, took the weekend off for Homecoming.
Pseudo-summary: So yes, all bets have been off for a little while, now that Balthier and Vaan are no longer on easy speaking terms. Balthier certainly doesn't know what's really going on (although he knows what he sees), and it wouldn't be fair for us to know more than he does.
--
Balthier considers the list of things he does not like. Desert heat features prominently, as does the biting cold of Mount Bur-Omisace. Small children with sticky hands.
At the moment, he cannot think of anything he dislikes more than foppish Rozarrian princelings.
Margrace waits for them at the foot of the mountain, and he blathers something about his "little birds" when Penelo, taken aback, asks him how he knew to come. There is a sharp edge to Penelo's voice, and Balthier does not bother to hide his smirk. He shrugs when Fran raises a pale brow.
Margrace walks beside Vaan, his dark hair whipping over his head, and Balthier cannot hear what they are saying over the constant wind that puts an ache in his ears and erodes his nerves fibre by fibre.
--
The Nu Mou are quiet and suspicious, and they do not speak beyond the trite blessings in the name of Faram.
The Kiltias are hospitable as ever, and they house the travellers in warm rooms. They beg patience, and say that they require time to consult with the senior Acolytes.
Balthier thinks an uncharitable thought about the Father of Light when the days stretch out, and he sits before the open window often, dissembling and cleaning his gun with soft cloths and oils.
He sees Vaan often, standing under the open sky with Margrace. There is a tension still to Vaan's shoulders, but he sees Vaan smile. Balthier does not turn away when Vaan glances up suddenly and sees him watching. Vaan's eyes are bright against the trodden snow around him. The contact only breaks when Margrace touches Vaan's shoulder and gestures him away.
It is after the Strahl sighs under his hands and the sky arches above his head that Balthier unclenches his teeth.
--
Balthier tells the petitioner a false name, and he takes a hunt in the Paramina Rift.
He blinks when Fran flicks an ear without looking up from the musty tome cradled in her hands.
"I have not desire to participate," she says. But then she glances up as if she finds an idea. "Perhaps you hunt with Vaan. He grows more restless with each passing day. Inactivity suits him little more than it does you."
Balthier is forcibly reminded just how much she sees and hears.
"I should hope that I am well capable of handling a simple hunt alone," Balthier says, and he turns, and he stops.
Vaan stands before him, something tentative in his eyes, and Balthier realizes they have been speaking again, he and Fran.
He decides that his distaste for the itches of confusion rivals perhaps even that for Margrace.
--
The Mark is a monstrous Garuda-Egi, hardened and vicious with age. Strings of venom hang from its crooked claws, tangling in the blackened trees below.
Balthier loads Dark Shot into the Fomalhaut, and his first two attacks shred the diver's wings. The last shatters the reptilian skull.
He glances back at Vaan, who leans the Zodiac Spear in the snow and wraps an arm around it before tilting his head gently. The silence is suffocated by the falling snow until it is as if the sky is siphoning away the sound, and Balthier frowns.
"If you had no intention of pulling your weight, I confess to incomprehension concerning your motives in following me on this hunt," Balthier says, somewhat stiffly.
There is a flicker that may be a smile, but it is gone before Balthier can identify it.
"Did you need help?" Vaan says.
Balthier rolls his eyes and turns away.
--
The blizzard comes upon them suddenly, white flurries whipping on the winds.
Balthier closes his eyes against the stinging ice, and he leans against the gale. The snow shifts and slips underfoot. Balthier covers his mouth with a hand, creating a pocket of calm air in which he can breathe, and he wishes for nothing more than to summon Belias and level the bloody mountain with Hellfire.
Balthier's hand quickly numbs, and he flexes it.
There is a stomach-twisting moment in which his boot treads on thin air, but before he can fall, cold hands wrap around his wrists and warm breath brushes over his neck.
"We have to find shelter if we don't want to get frostbite," Vaan shouts in his ear.
Balthier nods. He has forgotten Vaan's scent, he realizes. He leans into the heat.
"This cannot be natural," Balthier says through gritted teeth. He cracks his eye open, and in the white blur, he sees Vaan twisting his head around.
"Hold on," Vaan says. "I think I see something."
Then, Vaan is gone, and the cold is sharper than ever. It is so bright that Balthier sees red when he closes his eyes. There is motion ahead, and Balthier staggers as he steps forward.
A curious warmth seeps over his feet and rises up his legs until it envelopes him. Balthier cannot tell if he still moves, but he breathes in, and the heat swims through his lungs into his blood. His eyelids become too heavy to bear, and he lets them drift shut.
Suddenly, there are cold fingers digging into his arms and a hoarse voice shouting in his face.
"Balthier!"
Balthier tries to tug away, back into the warm.
"Balthier, wake up! It's Leshach! Balthier, it cast Sleepga, and if you sleep now, you'll never wake up, so, Balthier!"
The cold hands strike his face, and Balthier gathers the remnants of his control. He bites hard into the side of his cheek.
Hot blood floods his mouth, and Balthier winces. He is dizzy, and he feels himself sway, but he can see Vaan's red, snow-burned eyes, and he nods. He draws on his magick, and the tight sensation of lightning crackles down his fist like tiny pins.
Vaan is rushing forward, spear extended out in a thrust, and lightning arcs, skittering over the electrum in the Entite's core.
--
TBC
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