Categories > Games > Final Fantasy XII > Claret Sky
That which breaches
0 reviews"Balthier," Fran interrupts. "Perhaps you should speak to him yourself."
0Unrated
17. That which breaches
Balthier/Vaan - post-canon
Disclaimers still apply.
I feel like I should warn you that this is where it gets weird. But tension can't last forever before someone snaps, right? Also, I cannot cut down action scenes to save my life. The pictures in my head just take over.
--
The Strahl coasts low over the Paramina Rift, and the blood, visible from the cockpit, is splashed red against the snow.
"Refugees," Fran says tersely, looking down at the scene.
They cannot yet hear the screams, but Balthier sees a woman fall to her knees and raise her hands before the Imperial soldier's sword spits through her chest. "What odds would you give that they search for us?" he says. He twists the controls under his hands, sending the ship in a tight downward spiral.
The Strahl halts and hovers, pushing a blast of pressure downward that raises blinding billows of snow.
Balthier hears the hatch slide open to a roar of wind and tapping footsteps vanish in a running leap.
He curses. "Always bloody rushing in."
--
The slashing motions of the curved sword Balthier carries feel unwieldy in his hand. He throws his weight forward into a parry, twisting around and cutting deep into the base of the soldier's knee. The shriek is cut off when the man falls low enough to facilitate a heavy boot to the head.
Balthier sees another survivor, and he pulls the youth up by his shaking arm. "It would be best if you moved out of the way," he says, tugging the boy along as he steps back toward the shelter of a towering cliff face. "There's a good lad." He fears his voice is more brusque than soothing, but judging by the vacant terror in the boy's eyes, he hears nothing in any case.
There is a snarling soldier rushing toward them, sword swinging down in a heavy stroke, and Balthier catches the blow on his blade. The impact numbs his fingers and throws the soldier off balance, so Balthier lets his sword tumble to the ground, closing his fist to send it slamming into the soldier's face. The crunch of breaking bone and the slippery sensation of blood on his fingers, seeping into the recesses around his rings, is unpleasant.
"Tch." Balthier unholsters his gun, bracing it ready against his shoulder, and he looks about.
Vaan rips through the soldiers like a berserked Twintania, moving too quickly to be caught.
More Imperials lie still on the ground than remain standing, and they hesitate, caution in their stances as they exchange glances.
One, a Hoplite in armour, raises a hand and points.
"Capture the girl!"
Balthier thinks he derives perhaps too much enjoyment from the instances in which others underestimate Penelo.
He watches her whirl and yell, the mace she wields swinging in wide arcs that seem weighted and slow. It is always where she desires it to be, though, and Balthier winces as it catches one soldier in the side of the head and lifts him fully off his feet.
A man stumbles back, face twisted in confusion, and Balthier takes the opportunity to slam the butt of his gun into the soldier's skull when he falls into reach.
It is over soon, and Balthier glances to Vaan, eyes skipping over the stains on the ground. His breath catches.
Vaan is staring at the last soldier, and the light of bloodlust is high in his eyes, gleaming vividly. The soldier is motionless, holding the point of his sword to Vaan's throat. Balthier feels his jaw tighten until it creaks, and he sees Vaan sway forward, leaning into the blade.
Balthier has put shot through the soldier's head before he realizes his movement, and Penelo is shouting, running, and she slams into Vaan hard enough to send him tumbling to the ground.
"Stop it, just stop it!" she screams. She thumps her joined fists down into Vaan's chest, and he coughs harshly. "Stop it, Vaan! I know it's my fault! I know you have to be strong because I need you. I needed you so much that you haven't had a chance to even mourn, but Vaan! Vaan, please! I'm sorry! Stop doing this to yourself! Stop punishing yourself! I know you want to cry for Tomaj, and Filo, and Kytes, for everyone that we couldn't save along the way, but you think you can't. Why do you have to be alone all the time? Vaan, I really want to stop being selfish, but they're gone. They're all gone. And I just can't lose you, too! So Vaan, please, just stop it!"
Penelo buries her face in the side of Vaan's neck, and Vaan stares up at the sky, eyes wide.
Balthier thinks he should leave.
The wide, hoarse sobs do not abate, and Penelo's shoulders shake from the force with which she clenches her hands in Vaan's shirt. Vaan's lips part, and he raises a slow hand.
"Pen," he says, and his voice cracks. "Hey, Pen, stop. You're not selfish." He presses his palm over her head. "Don't cry. I'm sorry. It's okay."
Vaan's eyes flick to Balthier and away again.
It cannot be anything but a plea for privacy, and he turns away abruptly. He wonders if he is to take the refugees to safety now, and he wonders, with chagrin, when he had begun thinking like the hero-complexes that surround him. But first, there are dead to bury.
--
"What ails you?"
Balthier looks up from the hasty graves the refugees have erected, heavy stones laid flat to shield the dead from scavengers.
"Can't say I know what you mean," he says. "I'm perfectly fine."
"You mope," Fran says calmly.
"I most certainly do not."
Fran watches him, wine red eyes unblinking, and Balthier is resigned when he capitulates.
"The fight will be difficult."
"You fear?"
"Perhaps." Balthier looks up at the darkening sky. "Should I?"
"To live is to fear. To fly is to live despite the fear." Fran shifts, touching a hand to her shoulder, where Balthier knows a rough scar marks the area injured by fallen debris on the Bahamut. "You do not doubt often."
"Of course. It does not fall within the bounds of the role." Balthier frowns down at the graves, and his next words come slowly. "It's odd, isn't it. For a self-proclaimed leading man to accomplish so little."
"I think yours is more of a supporting role."
"Yes, you've said." Balthier grimaces at Fran, and he catches the quirk of amusement in her eyes. "Haven't accomplished much there, either. I set out to—who knows what—save Vaan, perhaps, and in the end, it's Penelo who reaches him. I'm not surprised, mind you. I wasn't there with them during these past six years. But I thought I could do something."
"Have you not?"
"I'm sure it hasn't escaped your notice that it is his lover who has recovered his sense of self-worth these past weeks. For all that is distasteful about Margrace, I suppose we do owe him that." He pauses, raising his brows. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Al-Cid Margrace is not Vaan's lover."
Balthier is quiet for a long moment. "How do you know that?"
"Partially, my eyes cloud not with jealousy. Mostly, because Vaan tells me so."
Balthier blinks against the wind, which whips snow up and into his face. "But—"
"Balthier," Fran interrupts. "Perhaps you should speak to him yourself."
--
Vaan's eyes are turned inward when he pulls himself aboard the Strahl, and his thoughts do not show on his face.
He does not notice Balthier watching.
--
TBC
Balthier/Vaan - post-canon
Disclaimers still apply.
I feel like I should warn you that this is where it gets weird. But tension can't last forever before someone snaps, right? Also, I cannot cut down action scenes to save my life. The pictures in my head just take over.
--
The Strahl coasts low over the Paramina Rift, and the blood, visible from the cockpit, is splashed red against the snow.
"Refugees," Fran says tersely, looking down at the scene.
They cannot yet hear the screams, but Balthier sees a woman fall to her knees and raise her hands before the Imperial soldier's sword spits through her chest. "What odds would you give that they search for us?" he says. He twists the controls under his hands, sending the ship in a tight downward spiral.
The Strahl halts and hovers, pushing a blast of pressure downward that raises blinding billows of snow.
Balthier hears the hatch slide open to a roar of wind and tapping footsteps vanish in a running leap.
He curses. "Always bloody rushing in."
--
The slashing motions of the curved sword Balthier carries feel unwieldy in his hand. He throws his weight forward into a parry, twisting around and cutting deep into the base of the soldier's knee. The shriek is cut off when the man falls low enough to facilitate a heavy boot to the head.
Balthier sees another survivor, and he pulls the youth up by his shaking arm. "It would be best if you moved out of the way," he says, tugging the boy along as he steps back toward the shelter of a towering cliff face. "There's a good lad." He fears his voice is more brusque than soothing, but judging by the vacant terror in the boy's eyes, he hears nothing in any case.
There is a snarling soldier rushing toward them, sword swinging down in a heavy stroke, and Balthier catches the blow on his blade. The impact numbs his fingers and throws the soldier off balance, so Balthier lets his sword tumble to the ground, closing his fist to send it slamming into the soldier's face. The crunch of breaking bone and the slippery sensation of blood on his fingers, seeping into the recesses around his rings, is unpleasant.
"Tch." Balthier unholsters his gun, bracing it ready against his shoulder, and he looks about.
Vaan rips through the soldiers like a berserked Twintania, moving too quickly to be caught.
More Imperials lie still on the ground than remain standing, and they hesitate, caution in their stances as they exchange glances.
One, a Hoplite in armour, raises a hand and points.
"Capture the girl!"
Balthier thinks he derives perhaps too much enjoyment from the instances in which others underestimate Penelo.
He watches her whirl and yell, the mace she wields swinging in wide arcs that seem weighted and slow. It is always where she desires it to be, though, and Balthier winces as it catches one soldier in the side of the head and lifts him fully off his feet.
A man stumbles back, face twisted in confusion, and Balthier takes the opportunity to slam the butt of his gun into the soldier's skull when he falls into reach.
It is over soon, and Balthier glances to Vaan, eyes skipping over the stains on the ground. His breath catches.
Vaan is staring at the last soldier, and the light of bloodlust is high in his eyes, gleaming vividly. The soldier is motionless, holding the point of his sword to Vaan's throat. Balthier feels his jaw tighten until it creaks, and he sees Vaan sway forward, leaning into the blade.
Balthier has put shot through the soldier's head before he realizes his movement, and Penelo is shouting, running, and she slams into Vaan hard enough to send him tumbling to the ground.
"Stop it, just stop it!" she screams. She thumps her joined fists down into Vaan's chest, and he coughs harshly. "Stop it, Vaan! I know it's my fault! I know you have to be strong because I need you. I needed you so much that you haven't had a chance to even mourn, but Vaan! Vaan, please! I'm sorry! Stop doing this to yourself! Stop punishing yourself! I know you want to cry for Tomaj, and Filo, and Kytes, for everyone that we couldn't save along the way, but you think you can't. Why do you have to be alone all the time? Vaan, I really want to stop being selfish, but they're gone. They're all gone. And I just can't lose you, too! So Vaan, please, just stop it!"
Penelo buries her face in the side of Vaan's neck, and Vaan stares up at the sky, eyes wide.
Balthier thinks he should leave.
The wide, hoarse sobs do not abate, and Penelo's shoulders shake from the force with which she clenches her hands in Vaan's shirt. Vaan's lips part, and he raises a slow hand.
"Pen," he says, and his voice cracks. "Hey, Pen, stop. You're not selfish." He presses his palm over her head. "Don't cry. I'm sorry. It's okay."
Vaan's eyes flick to Balthier and away again.
It cannot be anything but a plea for privacy, and he turns away abruptly. He wonders if he is to take the refugees to safety now, and he wonders, with chagrin, when he had begun thinking like the hero-complexes that surround him. But first, there are dead to bury.
--
"What ails you?"
Balthier looks up from the hasty graves the refugees have erected, heavy stones laid flat to shield the dead from scavengers.
"Can't say I know what you mean," he says. "I'm perfectly fine."
"You mope," Fran says calmly.
"I most certainly do not."
Fran watches him, wine red eyes unblinking, and Balthier is resigned when he capitulates.
"The fight will be difficult."
"You fear?"
"Perhaps." Balthier looks up at the darkening sky. "Should I?"
"To live is to fear. To fly is to live despite the fear." Fran shifts, touching a hand to her shoulder, where Balthier knows a rough scar marks the area injured by fallen debris on the Bahamut. "You do not doubt often."
"Of course. It does not fall within the bounds of the role." Balthier frowns down at the graves, and his next words come slowly. "It's odd, isn't it. For a self-proclaimed leading man to accomplish so little."
"I think yours is more of a supporting role."
"Yes, you've said." Balthier grimaces at Fran, and he catches the quirk of amusement in her eyes. "Haven't accomplished much there, either. I set out to—who knows what—save Vaan, perhaps, and in the end, it's Penelo who reaches him. I'm not surprised, mind you. I wasn't there with them during these past six years. But I thought I could do something."
"Have you not?"
"I'm sure it hasn't escaped your notice that it is his lover who has recovered his sense of self-worth these past weeks. For all that is distasteful about Margrace, I suppose we do owe him that." He pauses, raising his brows. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Al-Cid Margrace is not Vaan's lover."
Balthier is quiet for a long moment. "How do you know that?"
"Partially, my eyes cloud not with jealousy. Mostly, because Vaan tells me so."
Balthier blinks against the wind, which whips snow up and into his face. "But—"
"Balthier," Fran interrupts. "Perhaps you should speak to him yourself."
--
Vaan's eyes are turned inward when he pulls himself aboard the Strahl, and his thoughts do not show on his face.
He does not notice Balthier watching.
--
TBC
Sign up to rate and review this story