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fandomweekly2017-01-07 04:23 pm
danko_kaji) wrote in fandomweekly2017-01-07 04:23 pm
Entry tags:
[#027] Paint The Devil On The Wall (FFX | FFX-2)
Theme Prompt: #027 Flophouse
Title: Paint The Devil On The Wall
Fandom: Final Fantasy X | X-2
Rating/Warnings: PG
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1000 words
Summary: Unable to make the rest of the journey by airship, the four of them are forced to travel by foot from Luca onward. When they stop at the Travel Agency for the night, Chuami never thought her loyalty to the Spiran Council would come into question when it couldn't be any more obvious. Set during FFX -Will-.
Chuami sits by herself at the lobby, snacking on a complimentary peppermint while leafing through the pages of her logbook, ruminating on the past couple of days. Stopping off at the Travel Agency in Mi’ihen Highroad for the evening, the four of them decided to spend the night here before heading out again.
She really does not look forward to traversing the long, craggy cliff faces of the Mushroom Rock Road on foot, or fighting off the basilisks and iron giants that prowl the path. But whether or not they will take a hovercraft again to cross the remaining stretch of Highroad or rent chocobos in twice the amount of time, she doesn’t think Kurgum can handle another rough, bumpy ride on the machine transport for six straight hours. He retreated to his room as soon as they arrived here, desperate to lie down for a rest.
Chuami giggles, amused by the memory of Kurgum puking his guts out on the side of the road. But she can’t write something like that in her report; she has to be professional. Recording details such as her partner’s delicate constitution can hardly constitute as relevant to their mission objective.
Now that she stops to think about it, she doesn’t have to write a report. Baralai never instructed her to, so this mission might as well be like running a minor errand. But still, in case he does ask for one, she wants to be prepared to surprise him.
“Didn’t take you for the studious type.” Wakka pipes up from his spot beside the wall, amused, leaning against a shoddy bookcase of obscure literature. She forgot they had been milling about the foyer in idle boredom, until Yuna took to sitting at the other table with a cup of hot tea while her meathead of a Guardian kept a vigilant eye on her. He smiles, tilting his head at the notebook in front of her. “So, you really do believe in the Council’s manifesto.”
Chuami narrows her eyes, miffed by his remark. Sitting straighter on her stool, she turns to face them with a cross of her legs, cutting a sharp, plebeian figure. “I don’t travel around Spira for the flophouse treatment, you know. Wherever the Chancellor assigns us, we go without question. We assess the situation before returning to Bevelle with our findings and the Council chews over it, hoping to create a better infrastructure for all of Spira. It may not look like it to backwater hicks like you, but we are fighting this Beckoning epidemic everyday.”
“Hey! Who’d you think you’re talking to?”
“Wakka.” Yuna holds her hand up to pacify him, and then she looks back to Chuami when certain Wakka won’t cause a scene, regarding the girl before her with a prim and proper smile. “I can understand why Kurgum joined the Council, so I would like to ask you… Is Baralai someone you would trust with your life― your future? Do you believe in the direction he is leading us towards?”
“Of course. I’d follow him to the ends of the earth if I had to," she says without missing a beat. "Before you, he was that icon of Yevon, wanting to rebuild the world in the ashes of the past. I couldn’t understand why he even bothered to try, because if you ask me, the past is better left buried in the past. But then, weird things started happening in the world and Baralai had been the first to do something about it. Baralai threw away the Yevon moniker, started the initiative to form a democracy, and he submitted the proposal to create an elite corps of Senders, so ex-Summoners wouldn’t feel obligated to return to their calling. He’s been at the front lines ever since this whole thing started, six months ago.
“That’s why it annoys me. You two are so different…” Chuami trails off, aware of Wakka’s pointed glare, but more so wary of Yuna’s calm, inquisitive look, spying the tiny cracks in her delicate poker face, the anxiety brewing in her bi-colored eyes.
That oaf warned her to be kinder, be bigger, because her words would only hurt people like her― fragile, sensitive souls who act like ghosts of their former selves. They might as well be worse off than the beckoned, unable to change, unable to look forward or do anything on their own despite the fact they are still alive.
Chuami grits her teeth. “Never mind.”
And then she shoots to her feet, kicking the stool in her brisk departure.
She bumps into Kurgum on her way to her room, who yelps in surprise. Kurgum gulps, startled by her withering look, and before he can react, she storms off down the hall, slamming the door shut behind her. Emerging into the lounge area, Kurgum finds them engaged in heated conversation, or more like Yuna listening to the man spew his vocal complaint, and he sighs.
When they notice him approach, Wakka doesn’t even bother to hide his disdain.
“That girl’s got quite a mouth on her.” He grouses, crossing his arms. “Can’t you do a better job of keeping her in line?”
Kurgum smiles as his way of apology. “She’s always been like that. The only person she’s ever listened to is Chancellor Baralai and… her mother.” In a moment of silence, he drops his gaze to stare down at the ground, wringing his hands. “I know she can be difficult at times, but please… try to understand Chuami’s feelings. The only reason why she criticizes the Yevoners is because she lost someone important to her, and she blames them for it.”
“I see,” Yuna says, for a lack of better things to say. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Kurgum nods. “It’s not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault... Only the Yevoner hunters who killed her mother.”
In the dark walls of her modest, sparsely decorated room, a girl falls asleep to the damp warmth of her tear-stained pillow.
She really does not look forward to traversing the long, craggy cliff faces of the Mushroom Rock Road on foot, or fighting off the basilisks and iron giants that prowl the path. But whether or not they will take a hovercraft again to cross the remaining stretch of Highroad or rent chocobos in twice the amount of time, she doesn’t think Kurgum can handle another rough, bumpy ride on the machine transport for six straight hours. He retreated to his room as soon as they arrived here, desperate to lie down for a rest.
Chuami giggles, amused by the memory of Kurgum puking his guts out on the side of the road. But she can’t write something like that in her report; she has to be professional. Recording details such as her partner’s delicate constitution can hardly constitute as relevant to their mission objective.
Now that she stops to think about it, she doesn’t have to write a report. Baralai never instructed her to, so this mission might as well be like running a minor errand. But still, in case he does ask for one, she wants to be prepared to surprise him.
“Didn’t take you for the studious type.” Wakka pipes up from his spot beside the wall, amused, leaning against a shoddy bookcase of obscure literature. She forgot they had been milling about the foyer in idle boredom, until Yuna took to sitting at the other table with a cup of hot tea while her meathead of a Guardian kept a vigilant eye on her. He smiles, tilting his head at the notebook in front of her. “So, you really do believe in the Council’s manifesto.”
Chuami narrows her eyes, miffed by his remark. Sitting straighter on her stool, she turns to face them with a cross of her legs, cutting a sharp, plebeian figure. “I don’t travel around Spira for the flophouse treatment, you know. Wherever the Chancellor assigns us, we go without question. We assess the situation before returning to Bevelle with our findings and the Council chews over it, hoping to create a better infrastructure for all of Spira. It may not look like it to backwater hicks like you, but we are fighting this Beckoning epidemic everyday.”
“Hey! Who’d you think you’re talking to?”
“Wakka.” Yuna holds her hand up to pacify him, and then she looks back to Chuami when certain Wakka won’t cause a scene, regarding the girl before her with a prim and proper smile. “I can understand why Kurgum joined the Council, so I would like to ask you… Is Baralai someone you would trust with your life― your future? Do you believe in the direction he is leading us towards?”
“Of course. I’d follow him to the ends of the earth if I had to," she says without missing a beat. "Before you, he was that icon of Yevon, wanting to rebuild the world in the ashes of the past. I couldn’t understand why he even bothered to try, because if you ask me, the past is better left buried in the past. But then, weird things started happening in the world and Baralai had been the first to do something about it. Baralai threw away the Yevon moniker, started the initiative to form a democracy, and he submitted the proposal to create an elite corps of Senders, so ex-Summoners wouldn’t feel obligated to return to their calling. He’s been at the front lines ever since this whole thing started, six months ago.
“That’s why it annoys me. You two are so different…” Chuami trails off, aware of Wakka’s pointed glare, but more so wary of Yuna’s calm, inquisitive look, spying the tiny cracks in her delicate poker face, the anxiety brewing in her bi-colored eyes.
That oaf warned her to be kinder, be bigger, because her words would only hurt people like her― fragile, sensitive souls who act like ghosts of their former selves. They might as well be worse off than the beckoned, unable to change, unable to look forward or do anything on their own despite the fact they are still alive.
Chuami grits her teeth. “Never mind.”
And then she shoots to her feet, kicking the stool in her brisk departure.
She bumps into Kurgum on her way to her room, who yelps in surprise. Kurgum gulps, startled by her withering look, and before he can react, she storms off down the hall, slamming the door shut behind her. Emerging into the lounge area, Kurgum finds them engaged in heated conversation, or more like Yuna listening to the man spew his vocal complaint, and he sighs.
When they notice him approach, Wakka doesn’t even bother to hide his disdain.
“That girl’s got quite a mouth on her.” He grouses, crossing his arms. “Can’t you do a better job of keeping her in line?”
Kurgum smiles as his way of apology. “She’s always been like that. The only person she’s ever listened to is Chancellor Baralai and… her mother.” In a moment of silence, he drops his gaze to stare down at the ground, wringing his hands. “I know she can be difficult at times, but please… try to understand Chuami’s feelings. The only reason why she criticizes the Yevoners is because she lost someone important to her, and she blames them for it.”
“I see,” Yuna says, for a lack of better things to say. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Kurgum nods. “It’s not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault... Only the Yevoner hunters who killed her mother.”
In the dark walls of her modest, sparsely decorated room, a girl falls asleep to the damp warmth of her tear-stained pillow.
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Chuami is seventeen, with Kurgum being around the same age or younger, but despite that she's very critical about things, which I grew to like. The past two games were mainly personal quests, but by introducing Chuami who's only seen in a thirty minute audio drama, she provides a very refreshing, yet brutally objective view on things.
Plus, this fic can also double as an answer to my question: Why did she join the council outside of working alongside her childhood friend? Needless to say, I'm quite pleased with the result.
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Bittersweet was exactly what I wanted to go for! After all, you can't have the FFX universe without massive bittersweet undertones. XD