Final Fantasy X-2: Baralai/Paine

[lurk-stiltzkin.livejournal.com]

Title: By a thread
Author: lurk_stiltzkin
Rating: PG
Prompt: October 17 - Final Fantasy X-2, Baralai/Paine: leather and formalwear - Baralai probably had a good reason to pretend not to know Paine, and she was willing to play along.
Word Count: 479
Summary: There are times to let go, and times to do the opposite thing.

He heard their voices drifting through the large double doors, the prominent early leaving, the High Summoner's hesitation, and Paine's indifferent tone.

Two years and bullet scars in their skin have brought a harsher dip in her voice. She slowly turned around when he emerged from the gates, arms crossed in ignorance, feigning a quiet disinterest.

Even then, as he spoke with the High Summoner, the scent of leather still wafted to his nostrils, reminding Baralai about the stench of gun powder and sand in their shoes.

Behind him, the guards eyed the Gullwings warily. One false movement--the bat of his hand, a slight tremor of acknowledgement in his voice, he knew, would lead his two years of hard work in jeopardy. Nooj would be satisfied to see how well he was trained, soft spoken, calm and refined. Nary a wrinkle or a speck of dust on his Praetor's robe. Sphere hunters were quickly becoming a career choice for the Spirans, and the High Summoner's group was a grain of sand in the desert. Expressing familiarity with the female swordsman would give too much material for the gossip columnists in Luca Daily.

The way she rolled her eyes at his words made Baralai remember about their initial meeting. There's an old coat stained with blood--a bullet hole somewhere on the back, hidden deep in his drawer and he wondered if she did the same.

He learned the truth much later when they were sitting together on the Luca’s port, their announcement earlier that day had brought a mixed effect to the members of both factions.

“It missed my heart by an inch,” Paine stated, poking at her chest, a solemn look as her eyes combed the ocean. “I guess because it’s meant to be that way.”

She had done the exact same thing—keeping the bloodied material somewhere it remained hidden, but would emerge as soon as she began rummaging for spare clothes. Absolutely clueless on how to treat it.

Gippal’s had burned along with the destruction of Home—but they both knew the Al Bhed’s practicality had saved him from heartache most of the time.

“Where did you leave yours?”

He couldn’t find it anywhere after their journey into the Farplane. Groggy, satisfied, half-dead, he had woken up in his bed when the thought crossed his mind. The thing he just couldn’t let go.

“It’s gone,” he answered, rising to his feet, feeling Paine’s eyes follow his every movement. “the maid must have found it, and decided it was trash.”

“I left mine in Celcius.”

“So you could get it back whenever you’re feeling for a ride?” he said, extending her a hand.

She stifled a chuckle.  “So Brother would have something decent to wear.”

She accepted the offered hand, and for a moment, Baralai could swear that her face said not to let go.

Comments

[moemachina.livejournal.com]

I'm a sucker for Paine and Baralai, and I like the oblique approach you've taken here in demonstrating Baralai's hyperawareness (of smells, of sounds) in Paine's presence.

[lurk-stiltzkin.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

[dior-anghel.livejournal.com]

Really great. =D The characterization is wonderful, and this line is my favorite: ...the scent of leather still wafted to his nostrils, reminding Baralai about the stench of gun powder and sand in their shoes.

I can just smell the scents and feels the sand.

But just because I'm picky - Absolutely clueless on how to treat it. - is a fragment. Also, I believe the ship's name is spelt 'Celsius'.

Well done. =)

[lurk-stiltzkin.livejournal.com]

I realized it, but in the end, I wanted to emphasize that line, so it ended up like that. XD

Thank you for the correction, and I'm glad you liked it. :)