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literature
Bullet-proof (FF8)
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Literature Text
They were children when he'd come to her in the wild fields while she made chains out of cooperative flowers. Exhausted and adventure-bruised, Squall collapsed beside her in the grass.
“Maybe I'm dying,” he mused. He was still too young for sarcasm.
“You're not dying,” she returned with the haughty patience of an older sister. “You're just really tired.”
He shrugged skeptically and plucked at a piece of grass. “If I do, can it be here? Is that okay?”
Unfazed, she looped a fine weave of white flowers around his collar. She knew her reassurance meant more than the question or its implications, that he feared isolation more than oblivion without knowing or understanding either word. So she answered, “It's okay.” She fastened two final stems together, closing the chain; a perfect fit.
The dense, feathery petals shivered in the coastal breeze, lining his small shoulders like a tiny white mane. A common occurrence, he ignored the floral mantle and leaned against her. “I'm gonna close my eyes.” He looked up at her, seeking acceptance, if not permission, for whatever might result.
“It's okay,” she told him again. “I won't go anywhere.”
Lulled by her affirmation and the warm afternoon winds, he sank to rest his head on her knees and drifted until sleep found him. He imagined his pulse to have stopped once it got quiet enough, and dreamed of warm stillness, unable to fear what he could not comprehend.
Ellone rested her hand on his salt-stiffened hair, untangling two snarled strands and combing through the rest while she waited. When the clouds were reddening and her brother was fast asleep, the memory of his words sent a shudder through her slight frame. Of course, she knew what dying meant.
She had never shared her knowledge with Squall, determined not to instill fear where love would do. After all, she'd never known such peace, and he'd never known anything else. There were no bullet holes on this lonely shore.
She cast behind her at the old stone house and its Matron's lilting summons. Straining quietly to lift, she staggered to her feet and, with as much grace as she could, carried her family home.
“Maybe I'm dying,” he mused. He was still too young for sarcasm.
“You're not dying,” she returned with the haughty patience of an older sister. “You're just really tired.”
He shrugged skeptically and plucked at a piece of grass. “If I do, can it be here? Is that okay?”
Unfazed, she looped a fine weave of white flowers around his collar. She knew her reassurance meant more than the question or its implications, that he feared isolation more than oblivion without knowing or understanding either word. So she answered, “It's okay.” She fastened two final stems together, closing the chain; a perfect fit.
The dense, feathery petals shivered in the coastal breeze, lining his small shoulders like a tiny white mane. A common occurrence, he ignored the floral mantle and leaned against her. “I'm gonna close my eyes.” He looked up at her, seeking acceptance, if not permission, for whatever might result.
“It's okay,” she told him again. “I won't go anywhere.”
Lulled by her affirmation and the warm afternoon winds, he sank to rest his head on her knees and drifted until sleep found him. He imagined his pulse to have stopped once it got quiet enough, and dreamed of warm stillness, unable to fear what he could not comprehend.
Ellone rested her hand on his salt-stiffened hair, untangling two snarled strands and combing through the rest while she waited. When the clouds were reddening and her brother was fast asleep, the memory of his words sent a shudder through her slight frame. Of course, she knew what dying meant.
She had never shared her knowledge with Squall, determined not to instill fear where love would do. After all, she'd never known such peace, and he'd never known anything else. There were no bullet holes on this lonely shore.
She cast behind her at the old stone house and its Matron's lilting summons. Straining quietly to lift, she staggered to her feet and, with as much grace as she could, carried her family home.
So, this kind of came out of left field. I originally had a completely different story with the same title that I'd backburnered for years, but this just came about and the name fit. It's also possibly the shortest complete one-shot I've ever written; it's a bit long for a drabble, and too structurally defined to be called a vignette, so I guess I'd consider it complete. That said, I wrote it in two days, so don't expect anything stellar. It's kind of a snapshot piece.
I hope you enjoy it!
I hope you enjoy it!
© 2015 - 2024 LunaManar
Comments1
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Really, really like it. Short and sweet. Lately, it hit me how incredibly tragic Ellone's backstory is, losing her biological parents, then Raine, then being separated from Squall and Laguna, yet she keeps soldiering on, a smile on her face and determination in her heart.