Writing Story: A Passing of Death (Major FFX Spoilers included)

[GinnyLyn]

OK, first off, in case you didn't read the title, this has [color=red][b]MAJOR SPOILERS[/b][/color] for FFX. If you haven't made it past the ruins of Zanarkand yet or you don't want the game spoiled, then back out now.

As some of you know or don't know, I've been in my Auron phase so I can write this prequel about his journey with Braska. I know there are plenty of these types of stories out there, but I wanted to try my hand.

On the flip side, I do chapters rather sporadically. This one is near the very end, but I wanted to put it up to see if it was getting what I wanted conveyed.
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Chapter #?: With Rin
(Music: Closing Theme, USA FFXOST #16)

They were but shadows. The tall, wild one?the Ronso. The smaller, more human one?the Al Bhed. They cautiously gazed in on him, his still form, as if afraid to disturb him.
?[i]E ryja[/i]...ah, forgive me?I forget I still slip into my native language. I have,? Rin began again, ?tended to his wounds the best I can. He may survive yet. His physical body I have healed?but his spirit?? His gaze shifted back to young warrior stretched on the makeshift bed, and shook his head in sorrow. ?It is broken??
The Ronso snorted softly, inquiring something wordlessly.
?I can only guess. You say he has come from the Mountain Gagazet? That is near Zanarkand.? Rin?s eyes gazed faraway. ?I did not want to bring attention to it or him, but I do believe that is Braska?s Guardian Auron in there. Which means?? Rin looked grim, his sparkling green eyes now dim and cold. ?[i]Tysh[/i] Yevon. [i]Ruf tyna ra bmyo fedr dra rayndc uv sah dric?[/i]?*
The Ronso grunted in weary pleading, the foreign words not registering. Rin sighed, closing the door to the room.
?Again, forgive me, my friend. It is not common for we Al Bhed to get outside visitors.?
?Kimahri understand. What does Rin say??
Rin smiled thinly, with ill humor. ?Nothing worth repeating. Let me just say that humanity may commit many sins in its life, but none worth losing the purpose of life over. If what I have heard of Auron is true, he, more than anyone, did not deserve this fate. Kimahri, please, let us go now. He needs his rest.?

Auron had heard little, if anything. The heavy footfalls of the Ronso echoed dimly in his ears, fading away. The door was closed now. None would see him.
He shifted slightly, gauging the pain. His left shoulder ached sharply. His throat was swathed heavily in bandages, as was his right eye. Both sets of bandages were varying shades of red and dark crimson, new blood still seeping out, but slower now than the massive amounts earlier. It felt strange to rub against the cloth when he moved his head, stranger still to have half his vision blocked.
None of this mattered. What mattered was he was still alive.
And that was a terrible thing.
?Lord Braska?? he whispered. In his mind, the brave High Summoner appeared, smiling softly, even in death accepting things as they should be.
No, it shouldn?t have been like that. Auron?s throat constricted painfully.
He was back in the entrance room. Braska and Jecht stepped up the stairs, leaving with him their children?s future. Leaving him with?
Loneliness? Shame? Regret?
Nothing?
He should have gone. He should have. Braska had been [i]his[/i] master, and he had sworn to give his life to the very last blood drop before allowing Braska harm. And instead, he stayed behind, dreaming hopeless dreams, while an outsider, Jecht, no less, took his place, did what he could not.
Jecht appeared in his mind?s eye. No, it hadn?t been Jecht?s fault, either. He had waited for Auron to go, hesitated, knowing it had been Auron?s duty?then, when Auron had flinched, gotten weak at the last moment, Jecht had gone.
Because I had not. I valued my life too much. More than they theirs.
There is no hope now. My master is dead. My close friends are gone. And the cycle continues onward. What, then, is there left in my life?
?Braska, Jecht?? he whispered again. His throat constricted once more, his eyes stung hotly. His battered body protested against the emotions, but his heart could take it no more. His vision blurred crazily in his one eye, and his wounded eye blazed with stinging fire. The pain was immense, but could not compare to his heart, aching, wrenching?breaking.
A pyrefly flitted nervously around his left elbow. It was small, not much color to it. It was also uncertain, flickering in wonderment, not hearing the call of the Farplane enough.
He was dying. He knew he was. Just not?not fast enough. Not soon enough to honor Braska?s death. Fayth, where was his sword? They had taken it, along with his coat, when the Ronso had dragged him in. He had been too lost in pain, misery, and blood to notice.
In other cultures, samurais were considered to die honorably when performing [i]sepukku[/i]?a form of suicide consisting of slitting one?s belly. By the same token, Auron was attempting to venture down the path of [i]junshi[/i] suicide?suicide following the death of his master. His blurred eye roved desperately, and he grasped at what he could. His body protested once more at the movement, only his right arm being able to move much. He felt something light shudder at his touch on the bedside table, and as he tried to touch it again, the tray was knocked over, the half empty glass of water crashing and shattering on the floor.
Auron could see the jagged gleaming tooth of the broken glass glinting at him, and considered bodily throwing himself onto it. It wasn?t his sword, but it was better than letting himself die from battle wounds.
Quickly now?there isn?t much time left.
He had just begun to roll off, when Kimahri, attracted by the noise, rushed in a blue blur, grabbed at him. Auron sensed this, flailed out?the glass cut into the side of his right wrist, more blood?but he failed.
He failed.
Again.
Kimahri was looking over his shoulder, motioning someone behind him away. Rin perhaps? Or some other curious Al Bhed? The door shut again, leaving only Kimahri holding a dejected, defeated Auron. The Ronso gazed with concern in his golden eyes, unspoken questions.
Auron tried to brush past it all, but the evidence was there?the broken glass, his bleeding wrist. And in a rush, the shame tumbled down on him again, like some giant waterfall. He couldn?t push this away.
He was going to die an unclean death. Dishonorable to Lord Braska, yet again, all because of the wrong choices Auron had made. His throat constricted again, his body finally relenting, his russet eye filled with tears spilling over, down his face on one side, flaming the fire of agony on the other.
Kimahri carefully pulled Auron?s bloodied arm from his head, and examined it gently. He reached for one of the bedsheets, wrapped it around his arm. Auron shook his head dully.
?Kimahri,? he whispered hoarsely, the blood welling up in his throat again as it moved. ?The glass?please??
?Kimahri not like what Kimahri saw when coming in. Kimahri move glass from reach.? And he did so.
?No?[i]please[/i]??
?If want favor, ask of living. Kimahri does not work in death.?
The pyrefly from his elbow was back, peeking out. Kimahri watched it in sadness, ignored it as it tried to wiggle out. ?Speak quickly. Kimahri wish to help.?
The light somehow illuminated some dark reserve of hope in Auron?s mind, and he was reminded?reminded of his promises to his friends. Lord Braska first?he would find a way to help Jecht?s son later?somehow.
?If you won?t grant me death?? The blood flecked his lips, and Auron knew he had to choose his words carefully. He hadn?t many left. ??then please, go to Bevelle. Find Yuna, Braska?s daughter. Take her to Besaid. Her father wanted it.?
Kimahri nodded.
?I wanted to do it?but I can?t?? The blood was staining the edges of his mouth now.
?Kimahri wants silence. Silence stops blood.?
He cradled Auron gently, as he had on Mt. Gagazet, and put the young man back on the bed, his tail brushing the last few glass shards out of reach. Not that it mattered. Auron felt far too weak to do anything now.
?Kimahri?my things. Let me die with them.?
?Clothes? Sword?? Sideway glance. ?Honor??
But Auron was speaking to someone else now. ?Lord Braska?Yuna will be safe. I can?can??
Kimahri nodded once, went quickly to fetch Auron?s things. Auron was fast slipping into delirium. The Ronso returned, laid the folded crimson coat on the floor, put the sword against the wall, again, out of reach. ?Kimahri bring?? And his words froze in his mouth.
The pyreflies floated in a small circle just above Auron?s chest, softly wailing their mournful dirge. Kimahri had seen enough hunting battles in the holy mountain to know what that meant.
Auron was dead.
He knelt his massive form next to the bed, placed a thick, clawed hand against Auron?s dark head.
?Kimahri find Yuna. Kimahri take to Besaid. Kimahri [i]promise[/i] Auron.? And, very softly, he sang the Song of the Fayth, the pyreflies softly wailing with his voice. Unsure what to do now (his tribe had never had summoners, and did not know of the sending ritual, never mind the fact that Rin would not be able to get ahold of a summoner to do so), Kimahri gently patted Auron?s head once more. ?Kimahri promise.?
That was the last time Rin saw Kimahri; the Ronso was already on his way to Bevelle before Rin even ventured back toward Auron?s room.
The Al Bhed knocked. ?May I come in??
[i]To be continued?[/i]
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*Rin: "Damn Yevon. Why does he play with the hearts of men thus?"