Post by Reeve Tuesti on Nov 21, 2009 16:49:52 GMT -5
It's how I imagine it to have happened, anyhow.
He had come here expecting the good fight.
Instead...
Dark Bahamut. Of all things.
Summoners these days. Honestly._________________
Damn.
Power break wouldn't work. Neither did any application of Ki to induce fright paralysis. Auron hadn't expected it to, but when going toe to toe with a Dark Aeon, there were very few options. Retreat was the most obvious. Also the most untenable. He had to hold the line. Attacking the summoner was the only real option.
Megaflare hurt. Even in the Farplane.
Well. The Yevonite Church had lied about most things. Pain in the afterlife was probably one of their lesser failings. And it wasn't like any of the living priests would actually know.
Around him, comrades lay there, shuddering. The dead wouldn't die again, but they could be incapacitated. Most hadn't the combat training he did, hadn't become inured to pain through the strict teaching of experience. Most hadn't walked the world for years as an Unsent.
But all remembered what it was like to live in a world where children grew up to die and were cheered for it. For bringing Calm. For ending Sin. All remembered a sick, sick world so recently healed. It was why they were here today, fighting the good fight. Someone was trying to re-start the Cycle.
Feh. Over his dead body.
Metaphorically speaking.
Another Megaflare sent him hurtling backwards. His image wavered. He lost control for a moment and Masamune became a different, heavier sword. Blunt edged. Scarred. A lot like him.
He was losing focus. Needed to end this soon.
There were moves a warrior learned, not through training but through combat. He reached for one now. Shooting Star. He'd been a lot younger when he named it for the way it sent enemies flying.
Surprisingly, it worked. Bad feeling. A Dark Aeon shouldn't have been that easy to defeat.
Someone clapping. Who-?
Oh. Right. The summoner. And he wasn't clapping. He was dancing. Summoning another-
Dark Anima. Lovely.
"You're weaker than we've been lead to believe, Sir Auron." In front of him, Anima, already the darkest of the aeons, loomed like some gruesome caricature of despair.
Heh. That was the Guado Honor Guard. Duty-bound, polite as death, but always ready for banter. Even in the middle of war. From anyone else it'd be unprofessional.
Or maybe they were embarrassed over their tactics. Hard to say.
The warrior monk spat out a pyrefly. Hoisted the new katana (more a broadsword. He'd have to get that fixed) over his shoulder. The Farplane rumbled. Tidus and Jecht could take care of themselves. Braska... Braska would do fine on his own.
He needed time to catch his breath. Took a moment to indulge in the verbal spar.
"That was clever. Summoning the dark aeons." Barbed compliments. He saw them go home as the guado's eyes narrowed. Took a stab in the dark. He'd been a soldier and not a mage but even he had some idea of the cost.
"Whose soul was bartered as passage?"
The guado's eyes became haunted. Only for a moment, but it was confirmation enough. If Seymour kept these tactics up, he'd lose more than the war. The guado spoke, his voice strained and strangely noble. "Does it matter?"
Auron considered it for a moment. The guado let him.
"No. I suppose not."_________________
Auron woke on a stone dais. Like usual, he tried to open both eyes. Didn't work. Never did. His eye focused slowly.
What the-
"Why the freakin', flyin', smokin' HELL are you here?"
Auron's good eye blinked. The man the voice belonged to was nine or ten feet tall and had skin so grey it was a veiny, splotchy blue. Like death warmed over. Not so strange. The guy's hair? Yeah. Strange was one way to put it.
Damn. There had to be a correlation between hair and evil. Maybe world peace was just a good hairdresser away.
Oh. Firehead was waiting for an answer. Uh. Battle in the Farplane. Sacrificed my soul to save the afterlife. Was kinda expecting oblivion but apparently not-?
"Yes, yes. I see. How interesting."
Mind-reading...?
"Yes. I'm a God. Of the dead. Which you happen to be if you hadn't already noticed." Auron noticed him preen just a bit. Apparently the God didn't like the comparison to peacocks and turned a little red. Which made him purple. Then he was a crackling, roaring red.
Then he simmered right back down to blue.
Weird.
"Frankly, I have enough grubby mortal souls as it is. So if you'd just toodle off to your... uh-"
Farplane.
"Farplane and leave me peace so I can read up on this 'Harry Potter' phenomenon that the last several thousand souls have been blathering about-"
What?
"All'll be well. Capische?"
In retrospect, attacking him wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done.
But damn if it wasn't satisfying.
