Categories > Games > Legend of Mana
SPOILERS if you haven't finished the Jumi storyline.
Teardropshipping ( ElazulxHeroine ) ahead.
You have been warned.
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/If only./
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I remember the first time I met you. Well, technically, I argued with you. The official introductions didn't happen until a little later . . . when you said you'd stalk me until I came with you on a quest. Which you did, even when I started to threaten certain parts of your anatomy. Heh, well, that was one thing we had in common back then-we were both terribly temperamental . . . nowadays, though . . . well, lately you've been much more somber. We both have.
Right now, as the sun shines from outside of my bedroom window, I watch your labored breathing as you lay pale and deathly still in my bed, and I think I might cry. I know that if I was just a few months younger, I would have, but these weeks spent with you and Pearl . . . I know I've changed. This realization does not surprise me. Nowadays, honestly, very few things can. However, whether this change is for the better, or perhaps for the worst, is beyond my meager comprehension. All I know is that I cannot cry as long as you still live, however fragile your connection to this world may be-I will not cry as long as you and Pearl both still breathe. I think I've grown a little stronger because of you, on the inside, you know.
Pearl . . .
She's different. Whenever you awake, you will probably remember her as she transformed just before you fell unconscious on the floor of the Makiev Caverns. But, what you will not know, but will most certainly find out, will disturb you, I'm sure. She does not call herself Pearl anymore; she claims herself as Lady Blackpearl, the Pearl Knight. And she is not the gentle, quite soul we are both so very close to-gone is that gentle hearted Jumi girl I've come to think of as my own sister, and in her stead stands a hardened woman clad in black, with cold onyx eyes and a iron-hard voice. I remember watching in shock as she left you there alone on the floor, like you were naught but a dirty, broken toy obscuring her path; I remember plainly the ice in her eyes when she turned to me as I fell to me knees beside you to gather you in my arms, and demanded of my assistance. I was trembling then, sitting on the ground with your blood smeared across my chest as I cradled your body against mine, with this person-this terrifying soul occupying the body of one of my dearest friends-I-
I was scared. I wanted my little sister with the soft grey eyes and the shy smile to come back. I wanted my best friend to stop bleeding and open his eyes and tell me everything was okay. I wanted to cry. I wanted revenge.
Would you . . . I wonder, what would you think of me if I told you I wanted dearly to kill Sandra then, to brutally take the life of another, with only a selfish, crimson veiled motive to drive me? I truly do not want to know. The sunset is crimson tonight; it's blood-light pours through my window, and as I look down at my hand intertwined with yours on the bed sheet, I can't help but stare as my skin turns a morbid shade of red.
I am ashamed. My heart is not pure.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, and you stir. Slowly your eyes open, bright and blue and beautiful, and my chest tightens. From the dazed look in your I eyes, I know you are not completely awake, and from what I can see from the waning glow of twilight, your cheeks are flushed with fever, yet still, your eyes stare directly into mine for one quiet moment, and I think you might have even curled your fingers around mine weakly in an attempt to squeeze my hand. But then your eyes close, and your head lolls to the side, and once again you are asleep as night covers the earth in darkness.
I think I might love you, you know. And I think you may feel the same way about me, too. I think, I think, I think. I think I think too much.
Alethia, you are a fool.
Your bangs are so long. You really should cut them sometime. You're eyes are too beautiful to hide behind your ridiculous green hair. I reach out, and gingerly I sweep them away from your face with my fingertips. It's cool and soft as I touch it. My hand brushes your cheek, and I still as the heat of your fever burns my skin. Too hot. Much too hot.
Again, I am worried. I want you to come back to me. Please, come back to me, Elazul . . .
My gaze drifts to your chest, and there, in the darkness, I see your core glowing ever so slightly, pulsing weakly as it attempts to heal itself. Once again, I am tempted to cry. And, once again, I fight it. I feel so . . . so useless. I feel so utterly /alone/.
Where are you Pearl? Are you thinking of us, of your knight whom you left bleeding on cold, hard stone? Are you thinking of your dear friend, who has fought beside you countless times, who worries if she will ever truly be okay again if you don't return? Are you thinking of us, Pearl, as we are of you?
Right now, I will make a promise. I promise I will find Pearl. I promise, Elazul, that I will stay with you for as long as it takes until that wound in your core is filled. I promise . . . I promise I will not give up. Not yet. For you, my dearest friends, I will keep going.
I can hear your heartbeat as I lay my tired head beside your body; it is slow, deliberate, but unlike the rest of you, it is not weak. I am comforted by that sound. Yet, I speak . . .
"If only . . . if only I could cry for you . . . "
This time, you do not stir. In the dark hours of midnight, I close my eyes, lulled by your soft heartbeat and the feel of your warm hand held in mine.
------
hues of hazel
------
A/N: This story is based on my best recollection of when I played Legend of Mana, over three years ago. So please forgive me if I didn't get the events perfectly; I took the liberty to to take some liberties, besides, because video games are vague anyway. Naya. :P
Yes, Elazul and the heroine are in love in my universe, and are both quite aware of it. The fact that they are from two much too different walks of life, and because Elazul is already pretty much commited to Pearl because of his duty as her knight--those are the only things keeping them from a relationship beyond the deep friendship they both share now. Otherwise, trust me, they'd be all over eachother. :D
Alethia: The name of my heroine, whose POV this story was written in. In real life, I'm sure it already means something, but in my LoM universe, it means "miracle". Her nickname, who only her oldest friends call her, Thia, means "star". Both meanings are profound. But perhaps I'll explain their meaning another time.
I may or may not write a companion peice to this--depends on how many reviews I get and how favourable my muse is feeling. It has the tendency to just sort of dissapear and render my writing capabilities useless. So just, blame her for any complaints you have . . .
------
Everytime you don't review, a cute, cuddly rabite baby suddenly dies in the LoM world. Please, have compassion on the poor infant rabites and review every story you read, for all of our sakes. Thank you.
Teardropshipping ( ElazulxHeroine ) ahead.
You have been warned.
------
/If only./
------
I remember the first time I met you. Well, technically, I argued with you. The official introductions didn't happen until a little later . . . when you said you'd stalk me until I came with you on a quest. Which you did, even when I started to threaten certain parts of your anatomy. Heh, well, that was one thing we had in common back then-we were both terribly temperamental . . . nowadays, though . . . well, lately you've been much more somber. We both have.
Right now, as the sun shines from outside of my bedroom window, I watch your labored breathing as you lay pale and deathly still in my bed, and I think I might cry. I know that if I was just a few months younger, I would have, but these weeks spent with you and Pearl . . . I know I've changed. This realization does not surprise me. Nowadays, honestly, very few things can. However, whether this change is for the better, or perhaps for the worst, is beyond my meager comprehension. All I know is that I cannot cry as long as you still live, however fragile your connection to this world may be-I will not cry as long as you and Pearl both still breathe. I think I've grown a little stronger because of you, on the inside, you know.
Pearl . . .
She's different. Whenever you awake, you will probably remember her as she transformed just before you fell unconscious on the floor of the Makiev Caverns. But, what you will not know, but will most certainly find out, will disturb you, I'm sure. She does not call herself Pearl anymore; she claims herself as Lady Blackpearl, the Pearl Knight. And she is not the gentle, quite soul we are both so very close to-gone is that gentle hearted Jumi girl I've come to think of as my own sister, and in her stead stands a hardened woman clad in black, with cold onyx eyes and a iron-hard voice. I remember watching in shock as she left you there alone on the floor, like you were naught but a dirty, broken toy obscuring her path; I remember plainly the ice in her eyes when she turned to me as I fell to me knees beside you to gather you in my arms, and demanded of my assistance. I was trembling then, sitting on the ground with your blood smeared across my chest as I cradled your body against mine, with this person-this terrifying soul occupying the body of one of my dearest friends-I-
I was scared. I wanted my little sister with the soft grey eyes and the shy smile to come back. I wanted my best friend to stop bleeding and open his eyes and tell me everything was okay. I wanted to cry. I wanted revenge.
Would you . . . I wonder, what would you think of me if I told you I wanted dearly to kill Sandra then, to brutally take the life of another, with only a selfish, crimson veiled motive to drive me? I truly do not want to know. The sunset is crimson tonight; it's blood-light pours through my window, and as I look down at my hand intertwined with yours on the bed sheet, I can't help but stare as my skin turns a morbid shade of red.
I am ashamed. My heart is not pure.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, and you stir. Slowly your eyes open, bright and blue and beautiful, and my chest tightens. From the dazed look in your I eyes, I know you are not completely awake, and from what I can see from the waning glow of twilight, your cheeks are flushed with fever, yet still, your eyes stare directly into mine for one quiet moment, and I think you might have even curled your fingers around mine weakly in an attempt to squeeze my hand. But then your eyes close, and your head lolls to the side, and once again you are asleep as night covers the earth in darkness.
I think I might love you, you know. And I think you may feel the same way about me, too. I think, I think, I think. I think I think too much.
Alethia, you are a fool.
Your bangs are so long. You really should cut them sometime. You're eyes are too beautiful to hide behind your ridiculous green hair. I reach out, and gingerly I sweep them away from your face with my fingertips. It's cool and soft as I touch it. My hand brushes your cheek, and I still as the heat of your fever burns my skin. Too hot. Much too hot.
Again, I am worried. I want you to come back to me. Please, come back to me, Elazul . . .
My gaze drifts to your chest, and there, in the darkness, I see your core glowing ever so slightly, pulsing weakly as it attempts to heal itself. Once again, I am tempted to cry. And, once again, I fight it. I feel so . . . so useless. I feel so utterly /alone/.
Where are you Pearl? Are you thinking of us, of your knight whom you left bleeding on cold, hard stone? Are you thinking of your dear friend, who has fought beside you countless times, who worries if she will ever truly be okay again if you don't return? Are you thinking of us, Pearl, as we are of you?
Right now, I will make a promise. I promise I will find Pearl. I promise, Elazul, that I will stay with you for as long as it takes until that wound in your core is filled. I promise . . . I promise I will not give up. Not yet. For you, my dearest friends, I will keep going.
I can hear your heartbeat as I lay my tired head beside your body; it is slow, deliberate, but unlike the rest of you, it is not weak. I am comforted by that sound. Yet, I speak . . .
"If only . . . if only I could cry for you . . . "
This time, you do not stir. In the dark hours of midnight, I close my eyes, lulled by your soft heartbeat and the feel of your warm hand held in mine.
------
hues of hazel
------
A/N: This story is based on my best recollection of when I played Legend of Mana, over three years ago. So please forgive me if I didn't get the events perfectly; I took the liberty to to take some liberties, besides, because video games are vague anyway. Naya. :P
Yes, Elazul and the heroine are in love in my universe, and are both quite aware of it. The fact that they are from two much too different walks of life, and because Elazul is already pretty much commited to Pearl because of his duty as her knight--those are the only things keeping them from a relationship beyond the deep friendship they both share now. Otherwise, trust me, they'd be all over eachother. :D
Alethia: The name of my heroine, whose POV this story was written in. In real life, I'm sure it already means something, but in my LoM universe, it means "miracle". Her nickname, who only her oldest friends call her, Thia, means "star". Both meanings are profound. But perhaps I'll explain their meaning another time.
I may or may not write a companion peice to this--depends on how many reviews I get and how favourable my muse is feeling. It has the tendency to just sort of dissapear and render my writing capabilities useless. So just, blame her for any complaints you have . . .
------
Everytime you don't review, a cute, cuddly rabite baby suddenly dies in the LoM world. Please, have compassion on the poor infant rabites and review every story you read, for all of our sakes. Thank you.
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