cetus_nightmare (cetus_nightmare) wrote in kinkfest, @ 2008-07-30 23:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | a: cetus_nightmare, f: final fantasy xii, july 24, p: ashe/balthier |
Flight Of Logic, Final Fantasy XII (Balthier/Ashe)
Title: Flight Of Logic
Author: cetus_nightmare
Rating: T
Warnings: stylistic, incomprehensible
Summary: Everything makes sense, logically...
A/N: Very late, I know. I was aiming for a sketch, but it didn't really work out the way I wanted it to, so in the end (i.e. just now) I quickly went for fic. You can kind of see where the sketch is - it's written in.
There's so many different perspectives, and it's confusing, and I know, and I'm really sorry...
Prompt: Final Fantasy XII - Balthier/Ashe - lack of reconciliation - two ships passing for a moment in the darkness, July 24
Strahl, Rabanastre.
Rabanastre, Palace.
Palace, Queen.
Queen, Affair.
Affair, Reliving.
Reliving, sex.
Sex, business.
Business -
After slipping out from her palace (Of Wonders and Leather, his unconscious mind whispers) Balthier paused. He hadn't intended to slip out on her like this - well, technically, he had, only he'd (would have) done it with more finesse, more poise, more...ah, what was the word? Grandiosity?
But the best pirates (ignore the sky just for once, the waters're fine) had to learn, at one point or another, that always take with you only what you need, always have an escape route, and always, always learn how to tell when your presence isn't wanted anymore.
Because once Ashe is all dressed up into being a queen, ruling all by her lonesome, well, she doesn't need a sky pirate, even a former nobleman, pssht whatever, with her. Even if they did save each other's lives a couple of times, they're not meant to be, and he's not Ffamran anymore, scholar's romantic damn fool.
So the Waterways it is. Even though he didn't bring a gun he did bring a knife, and that's really all he needs here.
Waterway, rats.
rats, pelt.
pelt, Migelo's.
Migelo's, pretty faces.
pretty faces, Sandsea.
Sandsea, weapon's shop.
weapon's shop, gun.
gun, hunting.
Hunting -
Was it that much to ask? Because really - yeah, he'd known back then that Ashe was trying to save Dalmasca, her kingdom (the one and only true love in her heart that was still, slightly, alive) but he thought that she was still a woman, still needed certain things at certain times, and clearly Basch wasn't giving her any, so perhaps...
He'd gone into her tent one day and just - lack of a better word - dived into her blankets and - no better word - smothered her with kisses and passion, and hey, he didn't even really care that the only name she called was "Rasler"
so on the smooth stalk that was his gun the day after he almost cried, Ffamran, Ffamran, rise up and die slowly
black powder on the barrel coating his hands. Balthier, Balthier, you're nothing in the deserts, Fran isn't here and you can't be Balthier without her.
Deserts, sand.
Sand, beach.
beach, river.
river, Nebra.
Nebra -
The tide was dark and the moon shining off reflected glasslets in the lapping waters. Balthier sneaked into the village and hopped into the ferry, detaching the rope and paddling off into the darkness, cold Vega stretched across his lap. There was perhaps a small sound of paddle hitting water and then the boat was running aground over the wet slide of sand and his thoughts were just as muddled as the current.
Because, if you were the finest sky pirate in the world with a reputation so great that even street rats in Rabanastre knew you, then surely any woman - even the ones bogged down the most with chains - should take you and pay attention to you until you brushed them away?
They were waiting on him, Balthier, they were supposed to wait on him - not Ffamran, not toss him away -
Nebra, waters.
Waters, canteen.
canteen, journey.
journey, teleport crystal.
teleport crystal, invisible rope.
invisible rope -
It was like a chain, he reflected sourly, mood maudlin for since a long while ago. A chain of bodies and emotions, more the latter than the former, and even if she didn't feel anything he did.
Not Ffamran, but Balthier. Not mumbly, stumbling, stuttering; cool, suave, slick. Not romantic, tied to the earth; free of inhibition, free to fly.
What-ifs aren't Balthier's domain, they're Ffam's, but they're still bubbling up "What if I go back and beg" but a sky pirate's life is his pride and so he doesn't.
invisible rope, Strahl.
Strahl -
For a moment, seated at the front with the controls ready to hand, the clouds parting above the night to reveal the faintest hint of sky and fresh air, the only illumination his illumination, Balthier felt lonely, and missed again the feel of a warm body by his side. Even if it was all angles.
Strahl, Airships.
Airships -
There was a feeling in his stomach when the Strahl settled into the air steadily, easily, that feeling of floating. White-yellowing light behind him danced shadows across his buttons and switches and when he looked out of his ship, through the glass, his image looked back at him, clothes wrinkled, unshaved, sore and weary and tired.
Ffamran, Ffamran, what has it come to, in the end?
The Strahl scatters and slides, slick smooth and humming warm, bursting through the clouds. He is flying away from Rabanastre, whither shall we go next, Balthier? And there's a ship just beyond, almost exactly like a sketch he sees (saw) posted up on a wall in Ashe's bedroom, a new design, Rabanastre-made, and his heart skips a beat.
He flies his Strahl closer and skims along the angles (always angles, perhaps Ashe approved the design because it was so much like herself?) of the slender craft, blinking as her lights pour on and he jerks in response.
There is a figure on the balcony, and she looks regal, and there's something about her that screams unforgiving, and Ffamran, well, he runs. And Balthier agrees totally, because he really can't chance this. So he dims his lights, just a flash, a little bow, and speeds off away into the cover of the clouds and the cloak of the green-murk darkness.
Grandiosity suffices.
Grandiosity, poise.
Poise, insecurity.
insecurity, loneliness.
loneliness, partners.
partners, Fran.
Fran, Ffamran.
Ffamran -
Whither are you going, Balthier? Out beyond the next hill, over the next cloud? No, Ffamran, only as far as I can be.
Because really, all that matters is you and I, and no woman is worth being shattered again.
woman, romance.
Romance, gambling.
Gambling, Strahl.
Strahl, flying.
Flying -
going over the next horizon, seeking out the next challenge, the next comfort, the next everything -
is being free.