Writing A Guardian's Legacy

[GinnyLyn]

Here's the [spoiler]FFX[/spoiler] fanfic I've been working on, on and off. Since I haven't gotten any replies on any of my written stuff, I need to know now if it's worth writing more, or just quitting.

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[b]Chapter One: Bevelle Temple[/b]
(Music: ?To Zanarkand Once Again?, Fan Remix)
(note?needs major reworking)

Thirteen year old Braska was following his fellow classmates back into the Temple of Bevelle when he overheard the elder men speaking.
?Just curled up?won?t respond?like he?s dead??
Braska chanced a glance at his retreating class, decided that he should visit whoever this was.
?Excuse me,? he spoke up, approaching the elders and a warrior monk.
?Hello, Braska,? one elder nodded. ?What brings you here??
?I wanted to see who you were speaking of.?
?This small bundle of misery,? the warrior monk said gruffly. He pointed to the child, who was hugging his knees tightly, his dark head of hair bowed, pressed into them. His back shook silently, and Braska recognized the signs of absolute grief.
?What happened??
?Sin,? the monk answered grimly. ?This one was found at the edge of the battle, screaming for his mother.?
The first elder that spoke pulled both Braska and the monk to one side. ?Show some pity,? he reprimanded the monk. ?That child had to watch his mother die.?
?She?s dead??? Braska asked softly. ?Does he?? Braska looked to the hunched figure, (so small, so alone). He was wearing a far too large shirt that was obviously meant for an adult, tied around the neck with a scarf to keep the shirt from sliding off. It only made the child's smallness, loneliness more painfully clear. ?Does he have anyone else??
?If he did, no one has claimed him,? the warrior monk grouched.
?What is your problem with him?? Braska suddenly shot back. The monk looked surprised, and even the elders looked at Braska with open mouths. ?That child over there?he has a name, and I?ll bet you don?t even know it!?he has just suffered what we in Bevelle and all over Spira are striving, training so hard to prevent. Yet what do we do when we find those like us lost in sorrow? We simply let them drown, as if they mean nothing!? Angrily, Braska stalked away from the stunned elders and monk and approached the small boy.
?Such spirit,? one of the elders whispered.
?He?s also correct,? the other responded, glaring at the monk, who looked shamefaced. ?We did not approach this situation properly.?
?Shall we now??
?First, let us see how young Braska handles the child. Then we shall speak.?

Braska knelt on the marble floor of the Temple, next to the huddled child. He watched his own reflection for a moment, then turned to the other.
?Hello.?
The other said nothing, save for a quiet sniffle.
Undeterred, Braska extended a hand, smiling. ?I?m Braska, who are you??
No response. Braska held his hand out for a moment longer, then slowly dropped it. He sighed, trailed a finger on the floor, and then stood up. He had just turned to walk back to the elders and the monk when:
?Auron.?
?Excuse me??
?My?my name,? the child whispered, his head pulled back from his knees slightly, but not up yet. ?It?s Auron.?
[img]http://www.angelfire.com/weird2/elementis/youngauron.jpg[/img]
Pleased that he was able to reach Auron, Braska immediately sat down again. ?So, Auron, what brings you to Bevelle??
The face that turned to look at him tore Braska?s heart and made him sorry for being so jovial. Russet eyes gazed at him, tinged with red, dark lashes stuck together in jagged clumps from sobbing. Dirt was smudged in uneven layers across his face, some washed away by the trails of tears that had run down his cheeks (some very recent, as in evidence from the small puddle on the floor). A small cut, just below his scalp, trickled blood that ran down his forehead and across his right eye. His raven hair jutted out just as sporadically as his lashes, damp from sweat.
?I?I dunno?Mother knows?where?s Mother??
Innocent question, simple, left hanging in the air. Auron stared at Braska, who could only return the gaze, afraid to speak.
?Braska, where?s my mother??
?I?I don?t know, Auron.?
?The monster??
Braska looked to the elders and the monk frantically. He didn?t know what to say, afraid of false hope or harsh truth. Noticing his look, the trio joined them.
?Yes, young Braska?? one elder asked.
?Auron wants to know what happened to his mother.?
?Auron??
Braska indicated the small boy beside him. The elders smiled at each other.
?He got his name.?
?Very good!?
?Enough patting on the backs, you two,? the monk groused. He knelt down, his breath smelled of alcohol, his body of sweat and death. Auron hated him instantly. ?Look, kid, your mom, well?remember the monster??
Auron didn?t look at him.
?She?s dead, all right? SinSpawn got her.?
?Sir!? Braska cried out, pointing to the monk and looking to the elders pleadingly.
?How dare you, man!? one elder cried out as well.
?I shall have to speak to one of the priests about you,? the other glowered darkly. ?I?d prepare my resumé if I were you, you heartless son of a *****.? He started to roughly escort the offending monk away. The remaining elder turned to Braska.
?Come, let me take Auron now.?
?No,? Braska said quietly, equally as shocked as the elder for his unexpected defiance. ?Let me speak with him, at least for a little longer. Please,? he begged, ?he responds to me.?
The elder nodded. ?I will be just down the hall if you need me.? He nodded kindly to Auron. ?My sorrow and my welcome are yours, young Auron. Welcome to Bevelle, though I wish it had been under better circumstances.? He left.
Braska watched the elder walk away until he was gone from sight, then looked at Auron. He was startled to find that Auron had sat stone faced, gazing at the reflection that brooded back up at him from the floor.
?I?I?m sorry, Auron, you weren?t supposed to find out that way??
?I think I knew.? The response was void of emotion.
?My deepest sympathy.?
Auron nodded, still staring at his reflection; he touched the cut on his head, stared at the blood that stained his fingers in dull shock.
?What are you going to do now, Auron??
?I don?t know.?
They sat together in silence.
Auron spoke up in a tone that belied his nervous obedience. ?Who was that man that was taken away??
?I don?t know his name, and even if I did?? Braska?s eyebrows pressed together and he shook his head angrily.
?Not his name?what was he??
?You mean his job? A warrior monk.?
?Really? I know about warrior monks,? Auron responded, almost shyly. ?Back home, my mother told me stories about the monks?I?liked hearing about them.?
Yearning to keep Auron happy in the moment, Braska gently pressed the child onward. ?Would you like to become a warrior monk??
?I would do a better job than that man.?
Braska laughed gently. ?Yes, you would. You would be much kinder to others, I?m sure.?
And just for a moment, there was a genuine spark of gratitude and love in Auron?s eyes, the first since the attack.
?Do they fight Sin??
?Well, they could, but it?s not their official job. More like they protect us from Sin,? Braska responded.
?I want to fight Sin,? the child answered determinedly. ?I want to stop it from ever hurting anyone ever again.?
?In that case, you might want to be a Guardian some day.?
?A Guardian??
Braska nodded. ?To guard the summoners that would help calm Sin.? He pretended to study Auron very hard. ?But you must be strong, a good fighter, no, the best fighter, if you want to guard summoners.
?I used to practice sometimes with an old katana at home.?
Braska looked around, found an old abandoned mop handle lying against a pillar, forgotten by the janitor, obviously. He pointed to it. ?Show me.?
Auron stood up, Braska seeing his whole body unwound for the first time. He walked resolutely to the handle, picked it up with some ease. A few practice swings, and indeed, Braska could see a hint of talent.
?Impressive,? he answered. Auron beamed shyly.
?If I become a Guardian,? he asked slowly, quietly, ?would you?would you be my summoner??
Braska was startled, looked sad. ?I?ve thought about it a few times. Being a summoner, I mean. I just?I don?t know.? He sighed sadly. ?The duty of a Guardian is to protect his summoner at all costs, even?of his life.? Braska looked at Auron. ?I just don?t think I would want to risk that, or ask that of anyone, even you.?
?But that?s the job of a Guardian?? Auron said.
?You seem determined.? Braska smiled. ?Try it. See if you like it.? He stood up to stretch. ?I think that you would make a great Guardian. Whoever gets you will be blessed by Yevon indeed.?
?Yevon?? It was a slightly foreign word to Auron; his family only occasionally dabbled in the Yevon faith. They knew of Yevon, but that was about it.
?My class!? Braska gasped. ?I forgot completely about it!? He glanced about to get his bearings, then prepared to go. He was stopped by Auron?s small hand on his sleeve.
?Don?t go??
?Auron, I need to. It?s part of my training.?
?But what will happen to me??
What indeed? Braska had only wanted to comfort the child; now he was more involved than he had bargained for. ?We will take you to the elder down the hall, and he should be able to help you from there.?
At the office, Auron sat down with the elder. He turned to watch Braska leave, his face troubled. ?Braska, will I see you again??
?If you both train here at Bevelle, then most assuredly you will,? the elder answered. ?So there is no need to worry, young Auron. Now, young Braska, you need to go. Take this note so that Elder Maikar will not count your absence against you.?
?Thank you, Elder Somas.? Braska made an unusual bow, then smiled. ?Goodbye Auron.?
?Goodbye Braska.? Auron gazed after Braska, then bounced out of his chair. ?Braska, wait, please!?
?Auron??
?Thanks for talking to me. And?yes. Um, Braska? I think you should be a summoner. You will bless the Guardian that you will go with.?
Braska gazed curiously at the child, who couldn?t have been more than 8 or 9 years old. ?Yes. Thank you, Auron.?
And he turned to walk to his class.

[Na'dou]

That's great. I hope to read more soon. Keep posting! :)