Writings of an Owlmoose

These are the stories I wrote for the Trick or Treat Battle 2008, hosted by bottle_of_shine.

• FFX
  • Yuna, Wakka (prompt: ghosts at night)
• FFX-2
  • Beclem, Chappu (prompt: “where does it go?”)
  • Beclem/Yuna (prompt: murder)

-x-x-x-

Sometimes she goes down to the beach at night, picking her way down the hillside in the moonlight. She stands on the shore, listens to the waves, feels the night breeze ruffling her hair. Then she closes her eyes to imagine the sound of a distant whistle.

Usually she comes alone, but one night she steps onto the sand and sees a silhouette seated at the edge of the waves. Hearing her, the figure turns, then stands. “Yuna? Everything okay? Lu–”

“Lulu’s okay, nothing’s wrong,” Yuna assures him. “I just wanted to take a walk.”

“Okay.” Wakka turns back out to sea as she reaches his side. “Me too.” His shoulders slump with a sigh. “Bein’ by the water… it hurts less to remember.”

Yuna notices that he’s holding a blitzball under his right arm, and with a start she remembers the date. “Chappu!”

Wakka glances to her with a sad half-smile. “Yeah. Chappu’s birthday. I come out here every year, to give him this.” He drops his arm, and the ball rolls down it and into his hand. “Gimmie some room?”

“Sure.” Yuna stands aside and watches as Wakka bounces the blitzball off his palm once, twice, three times, then tosses it into the air with a shout, connecting with a sideways kick. He falls to the sand as the ball flies out and over the cove. After it lands, Yuna can see it gleaming in the moonlight, bobbing in the waves. She turns to Wakka, who is scrambling to his feet. “Won’t it just float back with the tide?”

“You’d think, ya? But it doesn’t.” Wakka brushes sand off his back as he closes the distance to her. “Any other time I kick the ball out to sea, it comes back. But not today.” He shrugs. “Dunno. Maybe I’m being dumb, chasing a ghost like that.”

Yuna reaches out and takes his hand; his strong calloused fingers close around her slim ones. “I don’t think it’s dumb at all.” For several minutes they stand together, watching the ball as it disappears into the open ocean and beyond the horizon. Then Wakka’s shoulders slump with a sigh.

“You ready to go back?”

“Sure.” She turns for the mountainside and he comes with her, still hand-in-hand as they leave their respective ghosts behind.

-x-x-x-

“Hey, buddy! You got a minute to show me how to work this thing?”

Beclem halted next to the green recruit sitting cross-legged on the ground, a half-assembled machina weapon in his lap. He was familiar, this guy who had just arrived on yesterday’s boat, Luzzu’s friend… Chappu, that was his name. “What can I help you with?”

Chappu shook his head with a hopeless chuckle. “I don’ even know where to start. Maybe I broke it.”

“Here, let me see.” Beclem bent his knees and crouched next to Chappu, then took the gun to inspect it. “No, it’s fine, it’s supposed to do that. You open it to load it with ammunition.” He pulled a bullet from his pocket and placed it in the chamber before closing the barrel. “Like that.” He opened the chamber again, tipping the gun back to dump the bullet into his hand. “Now you try.” He handed the weapon to Chappu, then tossed the bullet into the air.

It glittered in the late-morning sun as it fell into Chappu’s palm. He caught the bullet with a grin. “Okay. Lemme see.” He peered down the back of the gun’s barrel, then looked back to Beclem with a frown. “Okay, I know you just showed me, and I’m bein’ a total idiot, but where does it go?”

“You’re not an idiot. Handling machina just takes some getting used to.” Beclem shuffled around without leaving his crouch to come around Chappu’s back and, reaching an arm over Chappu’s shoulder, pointed out the opening again. “Right in that chamber. See where it fits?” With a nod, Chappu slid the bullet into the gun; Beclem heard it snick into place. “You’ve got it. Now close it up and you’re good to go.”

Chappu snapped the barrel shut with a decisive click and held the sight up to his eye. “Got it.” He jumped to his feet, landing lightly. “Thanks, brudda. I owe you one.” He held a hand out to Beclem, who took it as he stood.

“Don’t worry about it.” Beclem let go of Chappu’s hand and brushed the dust off his thighs. “You’re a friend of Luzzu’s, right? From Besaid?”

“Yeah.” Chappu leaned the rifle against his shoulder. “Just got here yesterday, and I gotta say, this place is really different from the islands. Been to Luca, but never this far north. Does it get that cold every night?”

“Cooler than Luca,” Beclem agreed. Then the references to Luca and Besaid clicked, and he realized why Chappu had looked so familiar. “Say, are you a blitzer?”

Chappu grimaced. “Was. I played for the Aurochs until this season. You?”

“Never professionally. I’m an avid fan, though, which explains why I recognized you. I’ve been watching you play for years.” Beclem tipped his head to the side. “So, why did you give it up?”

“Well..” Chappu glanced over the bluffs and out at the ocean. “It’s kinda a long story. But maybe I could tell you over lunch.”

“Sure.” Beclem smiled at Chappu. “If you don’t mind being seen with a known Luca Goers fan.”

Chappu laughed, flashing white teeth against his sun-darkened skin. “The Goers, eh?” He bumped Beclem’s shoulder with his own. “I dunno, maybe I outta rethink this.”

“I promise not to be too smug about it. Or, not very often.” With another smile, Beclem gestured toward the mess tent. “Shall we?”

-x-x-x-

“I had to kill them, you know.”

Beclem looked up at the abrupt words. Yuna sat a few feet away, twiddling a blade of grass between her fingers. She had invited him to lunch, he presumed to bury the hatchet, and they had found a quiet spot for a picnic overlooking the Djose Shore. So far they had mostly eaten in silence; this sudden confession was the last thing he had expected. “Excuse me?”

“The aeons,” she said calmly, even as she tore the blade of grass in half and shredded the remnants. “When we defeated Yu Yevon. In order to beat him, we had to kill them.”

“I have heard the story.” Beclem set his flagon of ale on the ground.

Yuna bowed her head. “They told me to do it. I felt, at the time, that I had no choice. But they were my friends, my companions, my allies, and I killed them all. And it felt like murder. I grieved for a long time.” She opened her clenched fists and let the tiny bits of grass free; caught by the afternoon breeze, they floated up and away, into the sky. Beclem turned to watch them go, then returned his eyes to Yuna, who had drawn up her knees. She hugged them to herself, and she suddenly looked young and vulnerable, not the confident High Summoner Beclem had thought he knew.

For just a moment, he hesitated. But finally he reached out to her, laying his hand on her arm. “I’m sorry.” He closed his fingers in a sympathetic squeeze; she met his eyes and smiled shyly.

Suddenly very aware of the softness of her skin, he dropped his hand and leaned away. “But, why are you telling me this?”

She sat up a little straighter. “We haven’t always been on the best of terms, and I know that you were angry that I didn’t take a stronger role in the leadership of Spira at the beginning of the Calm. I thought, if you had a better understanding of why, maybe we could become better friends.”

“Ah.” Beclem dipped his head in a nod, then picked up his ale, controlling the blush that he felt creeping onto his cheeks. Who had told her about that? He took a drink and schooled his face before setting it aside again and clearing his throat. “Well. Yes. I think I do understand, now, better. Thank you.”

“Thank you. For coming here to hear me out.” Yuna smiled at him again; he looked back into her warm eyes and found that he couldn’t look away.

Then the moment passed and she turned to the picnic basket. “Another sandwich?”

“Please.” With a deep breath, Beclem shook his head to clear it, and busied himself with pouring another round of drinks.