Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction / Fan Fiction ❯ Akirame Norwen ❯ Subeti wo Suteshimono ( Chapter 42 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

(A/N: First of all, this chapter consists of a lot of flashbacks, so to keep you from getting confused, the flashbacks will be set off with some lovely ~*~’s. Secondly, I’d like to thank Doomboy2000, who helps me sooo much with my writing. Kimi ga dasukida, Kenny! Please read his story, “Black Orchid”. All you Erik fans give me a holler so I know I’m not the only one.)

Chapter 42: Subeti wo Suteshimono
Riku and Akira idly sat on the floor next to each other, their backs against the cold stone wall. It had been at least fifteen minutes, and the room upstairs was still silent. For some odd reason it unnerved them both. “So... Tremere... what exactly is the significance of the Oracle taking off her veil anyhow?”
“It’s very hard to explain... looking upon the face of the Oracle is the same as looking upon the face of an angel. Immortal, created without a single flaw, made to forever dwell in one place, and watch over those she pities from her celestial perch.”
“Okay... I’m sorta getting what you’re saying... the Oracle is meant to stay here in the Farplane, locked up in that room, and observe what’s going on in the world through... her dreams or visions or whatever?”
“Quite so. The problem is created when the angel falls in love with her charge, the one she is appointed to guard, and comes to realize that she is separated from them by means of living in different realms. The only way she could cross over is shedding her wings and fall, becoming a mortal herself.”
“Wait.... I’m confused. From what I can tell, that girl up there is a normal human being like any of us. In what way does she have ‘wings’?”
“Her gift to See, it’s drawn from the Farplane itself, a gift from Hyne. If she leaves the Farplane, all that she is given from dwelling in the palm of her creator will be lost, never to be regained. She won’t be able to come back.”
“Oh... I’m starting to get it... now what exactly does this have anything to do with that veil?”
“If your friend sees her face and falls in love with her, he’ll never let her go.”


Erik heard the Oracle’s softly spoken words clearly, but his mind seemed fogged and he merely stayed in his place, listening to her heartbeat. Experimentally he took a free arm and curled it around her waist, and her heartbeat quickened, and her chest rose as she took a deep breath. His own heart responded, pounding heavily, almost painfully, within his own chest. “So... I guess this means there’s no keeping any secrets from you.” He finally said, finding himself unable to move from his spot, nor could he keep his voice from shaking.
“I know what happened to you, but I do not know how you saw things. I haven’t heard your thoughts or felt your emotions. In fact... I myself am numb... I cannot feel, smell or taste, I can only see and hear. It’s as if I were a dove, locked away in a small cage. I have to shed my wings to escape this place.”
“So you want to leave the Farplane?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t see why you would want to leave this place. There’s nothing but peace and beauty here. The world outside is ugly and hateful, I’ve seen enough of it to know.”
“A prison of gold is still a prison.”
“So.... why have you waited all this time to leave then? There’s a portal not too far from here that leads right outside.”
“It would be like taking a fish out of a pond and putting it on dry land; I need a way to breathe, a lifeline.”
“And am I supposed to be that lifeline?”
“Yes.”
“Well... seeing as to somehow you’re in love with me, I guess that makes sense. You’re making your great escape plan devastatingly romantic, aren’t you?”
“I am but a girl, after all. I must have romance in order to live.”
“So I guess under all those layers of linen you’re a normal human being?”
“I have the soul of a human, but.. I don’t have the shell of one.”
“Are you telling me you don’t have a body? You’re a ghost, floating around in a sheet?”
“Something like that. I do not have a physical, organic shell of living tissue to encase my spirit.”
“So that’s what’s with all those clothes, it’s sorta to.... protect you, or at least keep people from seeing you, right?”
“Exactly.”
“Oohhh... everything is starting to make sense now... even that veil makes sense... well I think I’ve had enough revelations for one day.” And he grunted as he pushed himself off the floor, joints popping. “You’re not missing out on too much.” He commented as he stretched his arms and bent over to pop his back. “How long have you been holding me hostage up here anyhow?” He asked, flopping down in the couch and looking outside.
Whatever was the source of light that kept the Farplane in a state of day had either moved on or waned, as the scene outside had become of night, everything taking on pastel, soft glowing colors, and the sky overhead was filled with impossible numbers of stars, almost as if someone had tried to put every star in the galaxy in that one expanse of sky. The pyreflies continued to drift aimlessly outside, and mingled with the sound of waterfalls and rivers was what almost sounded like voices, but there were no words, just air moving through hollow pipes. “What’s making that sound?”
“The pyreflies are. It’s strange that someone would call them that at all... they’re not really even flies, they’re the memories of the departed, given a form by the emotions they contain.” She answered as she sat down next to him, wondering how it felt to him to see such a landscape for the first time.
For a moment they both sat in silence, listening to the melody being created by the life force of the planet and the memories of those who had once lived there. At last Erik took a deep breath and turned to look at her, his desire to see what the soul of a person looked like finally overcoming his fear of what he might see. For a moment he couldn’t quite perceive what he was seeing, but as he allowed his eyes to focus, he realized that she indeed did not have a physical body. Instead he could see a face made up of what looked like a million tiny drops of water, a faintly glowing mist that had somehow taken the form of a beautiful face. Her hair was like strands of a spider’s web that beautifully shone, long silken strands of moonlight that gracefully danced and swirled over her shoulders and back, disappearing halfway down her back. He slowly rose a hand and reached out to touch her face, and was afraid that his fingers would simply slip through her, destroying the delicately woven smile she now wore. She felt herself being tied to him, and turned her face to see his, wanting to know what he felt right now. Her eyes were where the mist gathered the closest, forming a pair of deep blue windows that allowed her to see the world around her. He knew that he could never look away from her or be away from the presence of this pure light, and he began to feel drowsy and warm as her smile grew bigger. Yet in a way her smile seemed sad, as if she knew that she were the last or only one of her kind, and that she too would soon perish, leaving the Farplane empty and cold.
“If I do not leave with you, when Riku does all that is required of him, time will be restored to order.... and all that was lost before will be lost again, and the Ancient Temple will turn to rubble, and with it the only entrance to the Farplane will seal itself, and I would be trapped within, and I would slowly cease to exist. I would rather spend a short time, knowing that I will eventually die with you, than remain alone here.”
Staring in those unearthly eyes, Erik found himself drowning in a sea of emotions and thoughts too deep for him to comprehend. He felt his own short lifespan enunciated by this ethereal being that had lasted the ages. Even in a million years, he could probably only begin to skim the surface of this eternal angel. And yet, he felt drawn to her some how.
“What are you staring at?” she asked, and he thought he saw a flash of amusement in her eyes. She was still smiling widely.
“I want to kiss you,” he said, not even sure why he did. She just smiled with one eyebrow raised.
“Really?” she asked. Then her smile became a more mischievous smirk. “But aren’t you afraid?”
“Of what?”
“Well… you’ve had such bad luck with kissing lately…” she trailed off.
“What do you mean?”
“Well… there was that boy…”
“Riku was the victim of a vendetta, some plot for revenge me and Akira both came up with together.”
“And that girl…”
“What’s wrong with kissing Aki?” he responded, using his favorite nickname for the blue-haired whirlwind who had been trying to kill him not too long ago.
"What's wrong with kissing Akira?"
"You really don't remember, do you?" asked the Oracle, pulling her face back from him a little as she noticed he had moved considerably closer. He merely shook his head. "Well, we'll just have to go back then..."
"And how are we supposed to do that, exactly?"
"Come here, and I'll help you." She offered, leaning against the arm of the couch and crossing her legs while placing a silk pillow in her lap.
Slowly he moved and shifted so that he was laying on his back, head nestled comfortably on the pillow. "Alright, now what?"
"Close your eyes, and I'll guide you through your thoughts. Take a deep breath, and let your thoughts rewind."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Images flashed before his eyes. Riku's stunned look as he opened them from what he thought was kissing Akira. Irvine's eternal whining to be with Jerdania. Life from a frog's point of view. Being handed what was supposedly a P.O.W. from the most recent civil outbreak in Dollet. Lost in the desert. The terror aboard the airship. Being attacked outside Winhill. Watching Akira’s radiant smile as she displayed the choker he’d picked out for her. Her running towards him, hands outstretched to grasp his throat.

~*~*~*~*~*~
"You aren't very organized, you know that?" The Oracle teasingly chided as she let her fingers play with one of his curls, the other hand resting on his chest, just below his collarbone.
"Huh?"
"Never mind. Anyways, we need to go back further."
~*~*~*~*~*~

The windows in the hallway poured sunshine into the carpeted hallway, and a bird sung just outside. He followed its trail as it jumped from branch to branch in the blossoming cherry tree, singing as if it didn't have a single care. Unlike him, who was a nervous wreck. All those piles of paperwork he had just filled, hundreds of questions printed in black-and-white, answers scratched in ink. He took a deep breath, let it out and tapped his foot as he ran a hand through his hair. How long had he been waiting outside of Instructor Quistis' office now, fifteen minutes, half an hour? He looked at his watch to see, and as he did so the door opened with a soft click, and the proper, well-groomed, blonde-haired woman stepped out, holding his papers in her hands. She raised an eyebrow, then looked over her silver-rimmed glasses at him. "Well Erik," she said, her even more proper English accent soothing him somehow, "I believe you fit the mental standards of Balamb Garden. Follow me and we'll have the physical exam."
"Y-you're giving the physicals?" he nervously stuttered, following her down the hall.
"You and every other male candidate wishes that." She joked, looking over her shoulder at the once-again nervous 13-year-old boy.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Further, much further. This isn't what you're blocking out." her voice instructed, and he felt her fingers softly brushing his cheek. “Why did you like her so much, anyhow?”
“I found out later on, listening in on a conversation between Instructor Squall and Irvine, that I hadn’t passed the mental exam at all. She went out of her way and changed several of my answers so I would get in. I guess... she felt sorry for me, because I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I’d been living in Balamb City, living in one of the boats that some man let me have after I agreed to work for him.”
“Ah, yes. Well we need to go much further back than that. Go to your childhood.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was hard to see what the picture in the wooden, gold-trimmed frame set upon the dresser was, being not much taller than the dresser itself. He raised a small hand and carefully gripped the heavy frame and pulled it down to view. It was a masterfully drawn caricature of a yellow-gold griffin, standing on its hind legs, leaning back as it drew its long, black whip back, free hand held out at its length, talons outstretched as its beak stretched open to screech. It was the same picture tattooed on his father’s upper left arm, his “whip” arm, as he called it. Rather messily scrawled in the lower left corner was a signature above a date and the words “The Griffin of Balamb.”. Inspiration took form in his young mind, and he knew that one day he would be just like his dad, and have the same tattoo on his own arm.
The hands of a young child are hard to control, the mind not being strong enough to completely control the will of the body. This proved cruelly true as his fingers lost their grasp and the frame fell to the floor, the glass shattering and fanning over the floor. It was also unfair that the young boy was bound by his fear to remain frozen in the spot and await his judgement. The walls slightly shook and he could hear the heavy footsteps of his father approaching the door. He remembered that his mother, no matter how angered she was, had never raised a finger to harm him, and instead only used gentle chiding to guide him away from his mistakes. His frantically racing heart slowed down and he relaxed as the door swung open and his father’s strong, handsome face looked in. “What happened, Erik?” the deep voice of authority asked him.
“I didn’t mean to, it fell.”
His father walked into the room and surveyed the broken glass spread over the carpet. “I thought I told you not to touch anything in here.” was harshly growled.
“I-I’m sorry, it was an accident!” For the first time he became afraid of his father, and the big, strong hands that he once admired came flying down like the talons of the griffin, claws burying themselves into his shoulder as the others struck his cheek with a resounding smack that left his skin burning and his heart racing with adrenaline.
The room became completely silent. Never before had the father struck his son, and now he realized in horror what had just happened, as if a dream had revealed itself to be true. He knelt down and pulled the small child into his arms and took a deep breath as he tried to comfort his son. “I’m sorry Erik, I didn’t mean it.”
Silently the boy, being too young to know how to hold a grudge or count wrongdoings, forgave his father and buried his face in the man’s chest. Later, when the father back-handed his son, he would no longer try to seek the child’s forgiveness, like a sinner that had given up repenting.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Erik forced his eyes open and turned his head to the side as the pain from being hit burned his cheek. “I forgot that he apologized.” He softly said, bringing a hand up to hold his left arm, cupping the spot where he had in fact gotten the tattoo upon entering Balamb Garden, after slipping into an “underground” parlor that one of the resident SeeDs ran from his dorm. “What a waste of time and skin,” he thought as Serena, as she had urged him to call her, gently nudged his head back in place. “Can’t believe they’d actually give a thirteen-year-old a tattoo... damn it hurt.”
“We’re not done yet, Erik. You’re getting close to where you need to be.”


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He sat on the floor in the living room, various toys spread out around him. Some plastic dinosaurs, Legos, marbles and a yo-yo, crayons, the normal playthings of a three-year-old. He lazily flopped onto his stomach and picked up a blue crayon, and tried his hardest to stay in the lines as he filled in the left front leg of a horse. "Horses aren't blue." his sister's voice chided him, looking over at what he was coloring.
"Well I want my horse to be blue." he replied, then pouted as the crayon jerked in his unsteady hand and went out of the line.
"It should be brown."
"Well your choboco is green. You know they're only yellow."
"There are too green chobocos, I read it in a book. They're mountain chocobos."
That was his twin, always reading, always being smarter than him. She colored better too.
"Well if there are green chobocos, then there are blue horses."
"Mo-oom, Erik is eating crayons agaiiiin!" She yelled as he chewed on the end of his blue one.
His mother sighed and walked into the room, brushing her long, gracefully curling blue hair over her shoulder as she bent down to pick him up. "Erik, you know better." She softly reprimanded, pulling the half-eaten crayon out of his mouth and putting it on the floor as she sat down on the worn, somewhat ugly couch and pulled him into her lap.
He looked up at her face and felt the warmth of her smile, the comfort of being close to her. Her brown eyes sparkled as she smiled wider and hugged him, and he took a deep breath, the soft scent of vanilla further calming him. "I love you mom." He happily said, wrapping his arms around her neck. "Mom, will you always be there for me?"
She sighed and pulled back to look at her young, innocent son, looking up at him with an earnest face. "I'll try."
"You promise?"
"Yes, Erik. I love you."
~*~*~*~*~*~

As much as he tried to hold onto that memory, it soon slipped away and another scene replaced it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
They had been fighting again. He'd heard his mother's screams from his bedroom, as well as his sister's cries. He ran out to the living room to see his father staggering slightly as he began using words he'd never heard before. His mother was curled up on the floor, leaning against the partition to the kitchen, arm covering her face as if to shield herself. "Mom?" Erik softly asked, walking out into the living room.
"No, Erik! Take your sister and go into your room!"
His sister was crying, sitting on the couch, arms wrapped around a pillow. "Erik, make them stop!" She whimpered as he stepped towards her.
"It's alright, sis, I'll take care of you." He pulled her off of the couch and let her cling to him, and wished that he himself could bury his face and wait for it to all end, but he had to be strong.
"I'm sick and tired of you, Evela! I can't take you and your stupid black-mage bull..." some of the words were hazy, and he could barely understand what his father was talking about. In his anger he seemed to somehow fill the room, and his ice blue eyes shone mercilessly. As he raised a golden-tanned, muscle-bound arm to point accusations, the griffin tattooed on his arm seemed to raise its wings and open its beak to screech in fury, rearing back as it prepared to strike. "You're a freak, setting things on fire and zapping people with bolts of lighting! For Hyne's sake, what if one of the kids turns out to be a freak just like you?! What made you think you could keep it a secret from me all these years, huh?"
"Eugene, please! I love you!" his mother begged, lowering her arm to look up at him, her cheeks streaked with tears, brown eyes wide with fear. "I was afraid to tell you!"
"You monster! I'm taking the boy, at least he's more normal than you and the girl!"
"Don't take my son!" She hysterically screamed, jumping and pulling both of her children into her arms. "Don't take my babies from me!"
"You'll poison them both!" His father shouted back, reaching forward to take hold of his son, frizzled golden-blonde hair sweeping and sharply turning in the air. Erik screamed and tried to fight back as his father's hand tightly gripped his shoulder, talons digging into his flesh as he tried to pull him away.
"Mom! Sis!" He held onto both of them for as long as he could, and soon his strength gave out and he was being pulled away. Everything moved as if in slow motion, and he looked into the eyes of his mother, her arm reaching out to him, trying to hold him. His sister clinged to her mother, shouting his name.
"Erik!"
"Akirame!" he shouted back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The shock of this revelation shot Erik violently back into the present, like a rock from a slingshot. Things started clicking, and many of these connections didn't lead to very pleasant ends.
"I kissed..." he gagged, holding his throat as if the past action was a bad piece of food he could throw back up.
"Not now, Erik, later. I'm glad you figured that out but there's more pressing things that need to be remembered." the Oracle chided softly as his vision once more left the present, and out of thoughtfulness she pulled a nearby trash bin to the side of the couch near his head.