[fic] They Were Four - Part 1
Jun. 3rd, 2008 01:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
crankyoldmanFandom: FF8
Characters/Pairings: Edea, Quistis, with implied Cid/Edea
Rating: PG-13
Summary: They always called them horsemen, but she'd always known since the days of Hyne it had always been left to a woman to put an end to all things.
Notes: Because I just can't get enough of sorceresses and I missed Edea's voice. Also, Sev had an evil!Ellone prompt, so there's going to be some of that too. I also have far too much fun with aging the FF8 kids, as they make more sense to me when they're older. XD
"Don't you understand? It's all in my mind. If you take that away it won't exist anymore."
"I'm not sure what you're asking me to do?"
"I'm asking you to unmake me."
---
They always called them horsemen, but she'd always known since the days of Hyne it had always been left to a woman to put an end to all things. Or rather, four of them, if myth was to be believed. When Cid was around he used to read to her, and she would listen with her eyes closed and picture what the words on the page where like. Now that she was alone and her eyes were failing she had to squint over the ridiculous lenses that Quistis had gotten for her and make sense of it herself.
It was touching to see that Cid had always left out the worst parts when he read.
Edea had always been small, maybe a little frail looking, but since her dark hair had gone white she'd become nothing more than a skeleton, really. The echo of lost vanity meant she always had a large-brimmed hat on, and the veins that had dissappeared from her face had taken root on her limbs instead, so she covered them up too. It was just as well that Cid had gone before she'd come to this, a sunken-eyed spectre of something that had always been a little too dark to be beautiful.
Only Quistis and Rinoa bothered to make the trek out to her lighthouse, the one-time ivory tower of simple people. Edea had never been rich and she'd never been poor, and she had liked it best that way. Rinoa's cosmopolitan pastel ensembles had always left her maybe a little envious, and Quistis's simple and stiff personal uniforms sometimes invoked that old motherly pity she'd put aside when her children had told her about trying to kill her. Today it was utility, and she had to admit that she'd been surprised when Quistis had asked about the old books.
Even if the ability to feel all things had left her, Edea knew there was something wrong in the way Quistis fiddling with her hair, exposing just a little of the grey that had started to grow in places. Funny how the only way to truly know her age was through observations on other people.
"The first horseman is War," Edea read, squinting over to catch what Quistis did with her hands. She could lie with her eyes, but she could never lie with her hands. Judging but the grasping, wringing, and picking going on, this was more than duty that caused her to take the winding cliff path up to Edea's self-imposed place of exile. Something was happening in the world, and it made her a little sad to see that she could no longer know things as she once did.
"When the red-clawed has had its fill, Conquest rides in, leaving Famine to pick off the survivors and Death to pick up the bones." Cid had always read it like a fairytale as opposed to an apocrypha, a grim one but not without its sense of hope. This was only one of many different books, but she had always found this interpretation to be the most interesting, as it was something about the number four, four... it stuck in her mind. Like a sunflower for her bravest, and a cross for...
"And that's all it says? Doesn't really do much for preparation, does it?" She was losing track of her surroundings again, judging by the uncharacteristic impatience in Quistis's voice.
"You don't really need many words when you can see it for yourself."
Quisits had said, had said after rapping sharply on the door and letting herself in when Edea took too long to answer that she needed to hear about the horsemen. As if Edea were a librarian and not an old woman that didn't want to leave the sea but had weathered too much to get too close to it. Her little helper, the one that didn't much care for stories but only wanted to know why. The grey in her hair had changed nothing of Quistis.
She'd been sent. Something had gone terribly wrong, and if only she could know she would be able to still Quistis's nervous hands.
---
"I'm not a real sorceress, not like you. It's all in my head and I want it to stop, want it to go away."
"You can't ask me to do that! That's murder, that's--"
"What will happen anyway. I just want you to do it, you'll make it quick, make it complete. Stop me from..."
---
The last thing Edea felt completely was just before he left that morning. She had been out on the balcony, trying to feel the sun as it used to feel, wondering if the distance from the sea spray and the height above the earth was interfering with the sensations she wanted. But the pane of glass between her, the world, her husband, it was pushed aside for just an instant and he had put a hand on the small of her back and told her to put a hat on.
When he removed his hand, it felt like nails clawing down her back. And she'd told him to be careful, for the sun wasn't the problem that day.
If Edea had gone with him, well. There were a lot of things she would have changed, a contradication she would have ignored, a child she would have kept from getting lost. If she had been a better mother then maybe she wouldn't have been out alone to see that dying woman. If she had been a better wife she would have gone to the train with Cid and died being able to still know when the world was ending.
But instead she had this solemn little helper asking for stories. "Is it Rinoa?"
Quistis looked surprised; but then, everyone assumed a Former always understood the Current. Maybe they did, sometimes, but Edea never had the pleasure of meeting another Former that was in her right mind. And while Rinoa brought flowers, they were always the wrong colors. Red. Blue. Anything but the purple flowers that Edea had always fancied. "No, she's fine. Herself. Nothing unusual with her."
An old woman couldn't purse her lips in quite the way a young woman could. Edea settled on placing her chin in her hand. "So who is unusual?"
Maybe something could be said for the little bit of mothering she had done, for Quistis stopped fiddling with her hands. "It's Ellone, she's... not right."
They might not have all forgiven her entirely, but they had all seen her after. Some had talked to her. Some, like Selphie, had yelled and then hugged her. Some had sense, and some didn't, and one could never meet her eyes. But only one had avoided even being in the same room as her. Edea should have known.
"I want you to tell me if War has returned."
Characters/Pairings: Edea, Quistis, with implied Cid/Edea
Rating: PG-13
Summary: They always called them horsemen, but she'd always known since the days of Hyne it had always been left to a woman to put an end to all things.
Notes: Because I just can't get enough of sorceresses and I missed Edea's voice. Also, Sev had an evil!Ellone prompt, so there's going to be some of that too. I also have far too much fun with aging the FF8 kids, as they make more sense to me when they're older. XD
"Don't you understand? It's all in my mind. If you take that away it won't exist anymore."
"I'm not sure what you're asking me to do?"
"I'm asking you to unmake me."
---
They always called them horsemen, but she'd always known since the days of Hyne it had always been left to a woman to put an end to all things. Or rather, four of them, if myth was to be believed. When Cid was around he used to read to her, and she would listen with her eyes closed and picture what the words on the page where like. Now that she was alone and her eyes were failing she had to squint over the ridiculous lenses that Quistis had gotten for her and make sense of it herself.
It was touching to see that Cid had always left out the worst parts when he read.
Edea had always been small, maybe a little frail looking, but since her dark hair had gone white she'd become nothing more than a skeleton, really. The echo of lost vanity meant she always had a large-brimmed hat on, and the veins that had dissappeared from her face had taken root on her limbs instead, so she covered them up too. It was just as well that Cid had gone before she'd come to this, a sunken-eyed spectre of something that had always been a little too dark to be beautiful.
Only Quistis and Rinoa bothered to make the trek out to her lighthouse, the one-time ivory tower of simple people. Edea had never been rich and she'd never been poor, and she had liked it best that way. Rinoa's cosmopolitan pastel ensembles had always left her maybe a little envious, and Quistis's simple and stiff personal uniforms sometimes invoked that old motherly pity she'd put aside when her children had told her about trying to kill her. Today it was utility, and she had to admit that she'd been surprised when Quistis had asked about the old books.
Even if the ability to feel all things had left her, Edea knew there was something wrong in the way Quistis fiddling with her hair, exposing just a little of the grey that had started to grow in places. Funny how the only way to truly know her age was through observations on other people.
"The first horseman is War," Edea read, squinting over to catch what Quistis did with her hands. She could lie with her eyes, but she could never lie with her hands. Judging but the grasping, wringing, and picking going on, this was more than duty that caused her to take the winding cliff path up to Edea's self-imposed place of exile. Something was happening in the world, and it made her a little sad to see that she could no longer know things as she once did.
"When the red-clawed has had its fill, Conquest rides in, leaving Famine to pick off the survivors and Death to pick up the bones." Cid had always read it like a fairytale as opposed to an apocrypha, a grim one but not without its sense of hope. This was only one of many different books, but she had always found this interpretation to be the most interesting, as it was something about the number four, four... it stuck in her mind. Like a sunflower for her bravest, and a cross for...
"And that's all it says? Doesn't really do much for preparation, does it?" She was losing track of her surroundings again, judging by the uncharacteristic impatience in Quistis's voice.
"You don't really need many words when you can see it for yourself."
Quisits had said, had said after rapping sharply on the door and letting herself in when Edea took too long to answer that she needed to hear about the horsemen. As if Edea were a librarian and not an old woman that didn't want to leave the sea but had weathered too much to get too close to it. Her little helper, the one that didn't much care for stories but only wanted to know why. The grey in her hair had changed nothing of Quistis.
She'd been sent. Something had gone terribly wrong, and if only she could know she would be able to still Quistis's nervous hands.
---
"I'm not a real sorceress, not like you. It's all in my head and I want it to stop, want it to go away."
"You can't ask me to do that! That's murder, that's--"
"What will happen anyway. I just want you to do it, you'll make it quick, make it complete. Stop me from..."
---
The last thing Edea felt completely was just before he left that morning. She had been out on the balcony, trying to feel the sun as it used to feel, wondering if the distance from the sea spray and the height above the earth was interfering with the sensations she wanted. But the pane of glass between her, the world, her husband, it was pushed aside for just an instant and he had put a hand on the small of her back and told her to put a hat on.
When he removed his hand, it felt like nails clawing down her back. And she'd told him to be careful, for the sun wasn't the problem that day.
If Edea had gone with him, well. There were a lot of things she would have changed, a contradication she would have ignored, a child she would have kept from getting lost. If she had been a better mother then maybe she wouldn't have been out alone to see that dying woman. If she had been a better wife she would have gone to the train with Cid and died being able to still know when the world was ending.
But instead she had this solemn little helper asking for stories. "Is it Rinoa?"
Quistis looked surprised; but then, everyone assumed a Former always understood the Current. Maybe they did, sometimes, but Edea never had the pleasure of meeting another Former that was in her right mind. And while Rinoa brought flowers, they were always the wrong colors. Red. Blue. Anything but the purple flowers that Edea had always fancied. "No, she's fine. Herself. Nothing unusual with her."
An old woman couldn't purse her lips in quite the way a young woman could. Edea settled on placing her chin in her hand. "So who is unusual?"
Maybe something could be said for the little bit of mothering she had done, for Quistis stopped fiddling with her hands. "It's Ellone, she's... not right."
They might not have all forgiven her entirely, but they had all seen her after. Some had talked to her. Some, like Selphie, had yelled and then hugged her. Some had sense, and some didn't, and one could never meet her eyes. But only one had avoided even being in the same room as her. Edea should have known.
"I want you to tell me if War has returned."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-03 05:28 pm (UTC)-Jana.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-03 07:09 pm (UTC)This is certainly a good ensnaring first chapter. While I couldn’t help thinking Quistis could have been graying early, I did like the aged feel of the chapter. The regret was certain a cobweb over everything else. I also like how you’ve worked in the some of the main groups reactions to fighting your foster mom even if she was for only a bit you would think there would be some type of reaction.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-03 07:13 pm (UTC)I've missed being able to write! It's been so insane lately. But all the sewing on my Edea costume made me want to write something with her, so. XD
~Cendri
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-03 09:51 pm (UTC)