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beaslaysI think I started writing this last year. I've long forgotten about it, or what I was planning to do with it, so here it is as it was.
- - - - -
[Garland POV]
“So long as Chaos exists, this world shall not perish, just as I, trapped in these endless cycles, cannot die…”
My nemesis, the Warrior of Light…Claims he can yet save me. But what hope is there for this ensnared soul?
Better to give glory to the meaningless battles we fight. Best to forget everything but the thrill of bloodshed, the sweet sensation of victory….more so the bitter taste of defeat.
Best to forget everything.
Less pain that way.
*****
I wake to strong sunlight, spilling into the room through the lone window. I sit up; take the moment to orient myself as I look over the room. Bed unused, doors shut. Empty.
Just the way it should be.
I stand, feeling my armor straighten itself out. I stretch, hear my joints cracking. My back is stiff from sleeping in armor again—nothing a few morning exercises would not be able to cure.
I make my way to the washroom that came with the room. I wash my face, then catch my reflection in the cracked mirror. Haggard. Shadows under my eyes. I haven’t been sleeping well. Then again, when have I ever?
I leave my makeshift quarters—made sure to wear my helmet—and head into a corridor lined with doors. One at the far end opens, and a now-familiar man comes out, hips swaying even so early in the morning.
He sees me, but gives no greeting. Turns away with a look of disdain. Leaves, flicking his silver hair in my direction.
Kuja is young. He has much to learn yet, should he live past the cycles for that.
I follow him, no other way to go, after all. We part ways at the end of the corridor. He joins some of the other warriors for breakfast. I turn the other way—and head for the training grounds.
Golbez is already there when I arrive, sparring with a manikin of himself. He nods my way when I come to the edge of the so-called arena. I stand there and watch him. Not often we get to see him without his armor…or wield a sword, for that matter.
He finishes the manikin, and I step into the arena. My hands are itching for battle. Bones aching for a fight. Blood boiling already. All from watching someone else spar.
Golbez agrees to spar, and so we start a dance of blades. He’s strong, powerful. But nobody can defeat me, especially not a mage.
Nobody can defeat me…except…
I end the fight before my thirst for blood becomes too strong. Before I lose total control again. I need to save that for him. My nemesis.
*****
He’s waiting for me at the Shrine. As usual.
Late, he calls me. I scoff and say nothing to him. Just attack, fly at him with sword readied. He catches my first attack with his blade, and slashes at me. I turn and block him. Separate the swords, then catch him off guard with the other one.
He uses that blasted shield to stop me. I stagger back, then jump back. Land near the altar. He swings his sword around a little, says some fancy words. Sends a few light attacks my way.
I block them all with my sword. I charge at him. He dodges.
This is no good. I’m sloppy today. Distracted, more likely.
…distracted by what?
I blink, and it’s over. Lying on the floor of the Shrine. He has a foot on my chest, sword pointed above my neck guard.
Tells me to surrender.
Never.
He sits down on me. I thrash and attempt to push him off. No use though, he won’t relent. He’s heavy, despite his appearance. He starts on another of his lectures. Always the same though—always about the light, or Cosmos, or saving me.
He can’t save me.
I push him off, catch him by surprise. Pin him to the floor, it’s his turn to thrash. Can’t help but stare though—how many times have I fantasized about him?
I reach down and place a gloved hand on his forehead. He stops moving, blinks, quiet now. Scared, too. I pull my glove off, and place my hand on his cheek. He doesn’t move at all.
My hands are rough, he says. Expected—how else could my hands be like? Cautious, he places his own hand over my own. His hands aren’t rough at all. Soft.
It’s pleasant, having his hand over mine.
Then he pushes me off.
We start to fight again.
//
- - - - -
[Garland POV]
“So long as Chaos exists, this world shall not perish, just as I, trapped in these endless cycles, cannot die…”
My nemesis, the Warrior of Light…Claims he can yet save me. But what hope is there for this ensnared soul?
Better to give glory to the meaningless battles we fight. Best to forget everything but the thrill of bloodshed, the sweet sensation of victory….more so the bitter taste of defeat.
Best to forget everything.
Less pain that way.
I wake to strong sunlight, spilling into the room through the lone window. I sit up; take the moment to orient myself as I look over the room. Bed unused, doors shut. Empty.
Just the way it should be.
I stand, feeling my armor straighten itself out. I stretch, hear my joints cracking. My back is stiff from sleeping in armor again—nothing a few morning exercises would not be able to cure.
I make my way to the washroom that came with the room. I wash my face, then catch my reflection in the cracked mirror. Haggard. Shadows under my eyes. I haven’t been sleeping well. Then again, when have I ever?
I leave my makeshift quarters—made sure to wear my helmet—and head into a corridor lined with doors. One at the far end opens, and a now-familiar man comes out, hips swaying even so early in the morning.
He sees me, but gives no greeting. Turns away with a look of disdain. Leaves, flicking his silver hair in my direction.
Kuja is young. He has much to learn yet, should he live past the cycles for that.
I follow him, no other way to go, after all. We part ways at the end of the corridor. He joins some of the other warriors for breakfast. I turn the other way—and head for the training grounds.
Golbez is already there when I arrive, sparring with a manikin of himself. He nods my way when I come to the edge of the so-called arena. I stand there and watch him. Not often we get to see him without his armor…or wield a sword, for that matter.
He finishes the manikin, and I step into the arena. My hands are itching for battle. Bones aching for a fight. Blood boiling already. All from watching someone else spar.
Golbez agrees to spar, and so we start a dance of blades. He’s strong, powerful. But nobody can defeat me, especially not a mage.
Nobody can defeat me…except…
I end the fight before my thirst for blood becomes too strong. Before I lose total control again. I need to save that for him. My nemesis.
He’s waiting for me at the Shrine. As usual.
Late, he calls me. I scoff and say nothing to him. Just attack, fly at him with sword readied. He catches my first attack with his blade, and slashes at me. I turn and block him. Separate the swords, then catch him off guard with the other one.
He uses that blasted shield to stop me. I stagger back, then jump back. Land near the altar. He swings his sword around a little, says some fancy words. Sends a few light attacks my way.
I block them all with my sword. I charge at him. He dodges.
This is no good. I’m sloppy today. Distracted, more likely.
…distracted by what?
I blink, and it’s over. Lying on the floor of the Shrine. He has a foot on my chest, sword pointed above my neck guard.
Tells me to surrender.
Never.
He sits down on me. I thrash and attempt to push him off. No use though, he won’t relent. He’s heavy, despite his appearance. He starts on another of his lectures. Always the same though—always about the light, or Cosmos, or saving me.
He can’t save me.
I push him off, catch him by surprise. Pin him to the floor, it’s his turn to thrash. Can’t help but stare though—how many times have I fantasized about him?
I reach down and place a gloved hand on his forehead. He stops moving, blinks, quiet now. Scared, too. I pull my glove off, and place my hand on his cheek. He doesn’t move at all.
My hands are rough, he says. Expected—how else could my hands be like? Cautious, he places his own hand over my own. His hands aren’t rough at all. Soft.
It’s pleasant, having his hand over mine.
Then he pushes me off.
We start to fight again.
//
