Jade Dixon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
leasspell_dael) wrote2011-07-17 08:07 pm
leasspell_dael) wrote2011-07-17 08:07 pm
Entry tags:
[Fic][Chrono Trigger] Solitary Eulogy
Title: Solitary Eulogy
Characters/Pairings: Magus
Rating: T
Last Revised: 2009/06/01
Word Count: 1600
Status: One-shot. Complete.
Canon: Chrono Trigger only.
Warnings: Dark
Disclaimer: I don't own Chrono Trigger, nor do I pretend to. Even if I did, the army of lawyers that would come after me would make me change my mind. Chrono Trigger is the property of SquareEnix.
Solitary Eulogy
A Chrono Trigger Fanfiction
By Jade Dixon
He glided silently through the halls of the floating fortress, uncertain of which route led to the center. He was alone in his search for the others had deemed him too 'unstable' due to the personal nature of the fight, and had 'ordered' him to stay behind.
'As if,' Magus thought to himself. He had personally led armies, there was no way he was going to take orders from a group of snot-balls who shouldn't be off the apron strings yet.
Unfortunately, because he had to journey on his own, he was unable to take advantage of the Epoch's sensors to learn which entrance would take him to the Mammon Machine. As the blasted construct had been built during the height of magic, there were protections set up to ward against any probing he might have attempted.
Which left him stuck aimlessly wandering the corridors until he stumbled across his goal.
He kept his speed brisk to maximize the area he could search, and almost missed the fluttering of a piece of purple cloth in a side room.
He did overtake it, and was forced to backtrack in order to see who had cowardly taken refuge in one of the many unused rooms. Most likely a servant, however they might be able to direct him to the Queen.
The lights were dim, as was the fashion in Zeal. After all, it was more difficult to go to sleep and dream in a bright area.
Whoever it was, they were slumped carelessly against a wall, the wind from a nearby air duct blowing the fabric of her dress gently to and fro. The woman's head was bowed to her chest, and her arms were crossed languidly over her lap. Once lush blue hair was now frizzled and in wild disarray.
Magus immediately rushed to her side as soon as his eyes had adjusted enough to make out her features. He gently brushed the mangled hair away from a too pale face and called her name.
"Schala?" No answer. "Schala?" A bit louder that time, but still no response. The warlock began to grow angry. Who had dared to exhaust her so much that even her name being called would not wake her? He remembered that she had usually slept lightly, and would wake at the slightest noise. Guiltily he conceded that most likely it was the recent events in the Ocean Palace with Lavos and the Mammon Machine that had drained her so much.
This time he shook her slightly. Her head rolled bonelessly, and one of her hands fell from her lap, but her eyes did not even twitch.
Magus felt his breath begin to grow shaky as dread set in his bones. His hand trembled as he brought forth his lovingly polished scythe, and placed the broad side of the blade a hair's breadth from her mouth. After a few moments he moved it +back and looked.
No condensation.
He closed his eyes and choked back a sob. 'No!' he thought to himself. It wasn't possible! He wouldn't let it be possible.
But it was.
Schala, the Princess of Zeal, his sister and only friend, was dead.
And the most damning part of this farce?
She was still warm.
Like all the psychologists tell you, the first thing you feel is denial.
Magus had denial in spades.
He grabbed her motionless form, and held her gently, and apologized over and over again; for focussing on revenge instead of rescuing her, for turning into a heartless monster, for not listening to her as a child, and searching for her in the Ocean Palace, for being a bratty brother; apologizing in a constant string, as if hoping that if he apologized enough it would bring her back.
Her body began to grow cold, and more guilt set in; he was leeching her warmth, her strength, how could he be so selfish?
It quickly dawned on him that he was being as hysterical as the blonde girl had been when the punk had died. His contempt for the girl's weakness quickly dried the tears he hadn't even realized were coursing down his cheeks, and sobered his mind.
True grief hit then, but he repressed the moan that threatened to escape his throat. He had to take her out of here. She didn't deserve to rot away, forgotten, in this vessel for the damned.
He stood up carefully, cradling her body close to his chest, and slowly retraced his steps until he reached the entrance back to the real world. As he walked, he felt the need to tell her what had happened to the land since she had entered the Ocean Palace.
"Zeal has fallen, and magic is fading from knowledge."
"The storms have finally stopped. You can see blue sky and sun, even from the ground."
"Earthbound and Enlightened live together with no separation, now. Just like you wanted."
He hesitated when he reached the access hatch he had used to enter. A bit of his previous irrationality resurfaced.
Schala was alive the last time she had been outside these walls. Perhaps if he left this husk inside, he would exit and find a perfectly healthy Schala.
He managed to shake off this foolish fancy though, and with his sister in his arms, floated back to the cape where he had joined the fools, who were most likely dying now, in their idiotic quest.
Debris from Zeal had finally begun making its way to shore, so the landscape wasn't as pristine as it once had been, but the view of the sunset over the ocean was still perfect, which was what he wanted.
Landside sunsets had always mystified him, being unknown from his youth. He had always wanted to watch one with his sister.
And so, he stood there with his cape blowing, and his hair waving in the wind, not feeling the icy cold that still plagued this era despite the cessation of the eternal storm. His sister lay broken in his arms, and he looked straight ahead, not caring that his eyes were beginning to burn from unshed tears.
It reached the point he loved most: when the sky was painted the colour of blood; blood that had not spilled from the princess' body, being without wounds.
Then it sank into the ocean, and darkness fell.
He laid her gently in the snow, and walked down to the shoreline. There he searched for hours until he found a piece of wood the right size, and dragged it in far enough that the tide wouldn't be able to claim it again.
He brought Schala down, and laid it on the wood. Her body had grown stiff, and refused to allow him to place her arms in a more natural position folded at her waist, so they remained straight at her sides.
From his bag, he removed the white candles he saved for special magical ceremonies, and placed them evenly surrounding her body. With a pulse of energy, he lit them, casting her body in a soft ambiance, and giving her cheeks the rosy glow they had been robbed of in death.
It wasn't much of a sending off, it wasn't near what she deserved, but it was all he could give her.
"I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely, unsure what exactly he was apologizing for, but knowing that there was so much he had to do so for that it didn't really matter.
The wind stole his words, and if there was any mercy in this cruel world it would carry them to wherever Schala was now.
"You were more than just a sister to me, more than just a friend," he told her sadly. "You were the only mother I remember having.
"The woman who gave birth to me, I never feared her not loving me, or losing her respect. She was nothing to me, but you were everything.
"I can't help but feel that if you could see me now, you would be disappointed. I'm bitter and cruel. I've done terrible things, and I can't feel bad about it. You were a woman of upstanding moral stature, and I'm the very antithesis of that.
"I'm lost. I don't know where to turn now. Those children will either defeat Lavos, or they won't. I've proven that I can't, and...
"And now I find I've lost the will to fight. How can I, knowing that my blind desire for revenge has cost you your future?
"That's what they fight for, the future. Maybe if they had been in my place, you wouldn't have died. But even knowing that, I can't feel any compassion for people I don't know, like they do. With you gone, there's no reason for me to fight anymore.
"I need you."
His ending plea caused no change, and he finally allowed his tears to flow again.
"I love you. Please forgive me..."
He pushed the raft into the water, and watched silently through blurred vision until he could no longer see the lights from the candles.
As he began to walk back to the Gate, the Black Omen fell from the sky.
The brats had done it. And the only reason he could find to be grateful was because they had made a fitting memorial for his sister.
Magus approached the nerd's machine without fear. Not that he trusted her supposed genius, but he didn't feel anything anymore.
The blonde twit felt the need to pester him one last time.
"So, are you going to search for Schala?"
He didn't reply, simply stepped into the Gate and let it whisk him to wherever the other end lay.
No, he didn't need to find Schala. He'd already found her. And even if he hadn't, she had always known who she was. He was the one who was lost.
It was time to search for himself.
Characters/Pairings: Magus
Rating: T
Last Revised: 2009/06/01
Word Count: 1600
Status: One-shot. Complete.
Canon: Chrono Trigger only.
Warnings: Dark
Disclaimer: I don't own Chrono Trigger, nor do I pretend to. Even if I did, the army of lawyers that would come after me would make me change my mind. Chrono Trigger is the property of SquareEnix.
A Chrono Trigger Fanfiction
By Jade Dixon
He glided silently through the halls of the floating fortress, uncertain of which route led to the center. He was alone in his search for the others had deemed him too 'unstable' due to the personal nature of the fight, and had 'ordered' him to stay behind.
'As if,' Magus thought to himself. He had personally led armies, there was no way he was going to take orders from a group of snot-balls who shouldn't be off the apron strings yet.
Unfortunately, because he had to journey on his own, he was unable to take advantage of the Epoch's sensors to learn which entrance would take him to the Mammon Machine. As the blasted construct had been built during the height of magic, there were protections set up to ward against any probing he might have attempted.
Which left him stuck aimlessly wandering the corridors until he stumbled across his goal.
He kept his speed brisk to maximize the area he could search, and almost missed the fluttering of a piece of purple cloth in a side room.
He did overtake it, and was forced to backtrack in order to see who had cowardly taken refuge in one of the many unused rooms. Most likely a servant, however they might be able to direct him to the Queen.
The lights were dim, as was the fashion in Zeal. After all, it was more difficult to go to sleep and dream in a bright area.
Whoever it was, they were slumped carelessly against a wall, the wind from a nearby air duct blowing the fabric of her dress gently to and fro. The woman's head was bowed to her chest, and her arms were crossed languidly over her lap. Once lush blue hair was now frizzled and in wild disarray.
Magus immediately rushed to her side as soon as his eyes had adjusted enough to make out her features. He gently brushed the mangled hair away from a too pale face and called her name.
"Schala?" No answer. "Schala?" A bit louder that time, but still no response. The warlock began to grow angry. Who had dared to exhaust her so much that even her name being called would not wake her? He remembered that she had usually slept lightly, and would wake at the slightest noise. Guiltily he conceded that most likely it was the recent events in the Ocean Palace with Lavos and the Mammon Machine that had drained her so much.
This time he shook her slightly. Her head rolled bonelessly, and one of her hands fell from her lap, but her eyes did not even twitch.
Magus felt his breath begin to grow shaky as dread set in his bones. His hand trembled as he brought forth his lovingly polished scythe, and placed the broad side of the blade a hair's breadth from her mouth. After a few moments he moved it +back and looked.
No condensation.
He closed his eyes and choked back a sob. 'No!' he thought to himself. It wasn't possible! He wouldn't let it be possible.
But it was.
Schala, the Princess of Zeal, his sister and only friend, was dead.
And the most damning part of this farce?
She was still warm.
Like all the psychologists tell you, the first thing you feel is denial.
Magus had denial in spades.
He grabbed her motionless form, and held her gently, and apologized over and over again; for focussing on revenge instead of rescuing her, for turning into a heartless monster, for not listening to her as a child, and searching for her in the Ocean Palace, for being a bratty brother; apologizing in a constant string, as if hoping that if he apologized enough it would bring her back.
Her body began to grow cold, and more guilt set in; he was leeching her warmth, her strength, how could he be so selfish?
It quickly dawned on him that he was being as hysterical as the blonde girl had been when the punk had died. His contempt for the girl's weakness quickly dried the tears he hadn't even realized were coursing down his cheeks, and sobered his mind.
True grief hit then, but he repressed the moan that threatened to escape his throat. He had to take her out of here. She didn't deserve to rot away, forgotten, in this vessel for the damned.
He stood up carefully, cradling her body close to his chest, and slowly retraced his steps until he reached the entrance back to the real world. As he walked, he felt the need to tell her what had happened to the land since she had entered the Ocean Palace.
"Zeal has fallen, and magic is fading from knowledge."
"The storms have finally stopped. You can see blue sky and sun, even from the ground."
"Earthbound and Enlightened live together with no separation, now. Just like you wanted."
He hesitated when he reached the access hatch he had used to enter. A bit of his previous irrationality resurfaced.
Schala was alive the last time she had been outside these walls. Perhaps if he left this husk inside, he would exit and find a perfectly healthy Schala.
He managed to shake off this foolish fancy though, and with his sister in his arms, floated back to the cape where he had joined the fools, who were most likely dying now, in their idiotic quest.
Debris from Zeal had finally begun making its way to shore, so the landscape wasn't as pristine as it once had been, but the view of the sunset over the ocean was still perfect, which was what he wanted.
Landside sunsets had always mystified him, being unknown from his youth. He had always wanted to watch one with his sister.
And so, he stood there with his cape blowing, and his hair waving in the wind, not feeling the icy cold that still plagued this era despite the cessation of the eternal storm. His sister lay broken in his arms, and he looked straight ahead, not caring that his eyes were beginning to burn from unshed tears.
It reached the point he loved most: when the sky was painted the colour of blood; blood that had not spilled from the princess' body, being without wounds.
Then it sank into the ocean, and darkness fell.
He laid her gently in the snow, and walked down to the shoreline. There he searched for hours until he found a piece of wood the right size, and dragged it in far enough that the tide wouldn't be able to claim it again.
He brought Schala down, and laid it on the wood. Her body had grown stiff, and refused to allow him to place her arms in a more natural position folded at her waist, so they remained straight at her sides.
From his bag, he removed the white candles he saved for special magical ceremonies, and placed them evenly surrounding her body. With a pulse of energy, he lit them, casting her body in a soft ambiance, and giving her cheeks the rosy glow they had been robbed of in death.
It wasn't much of a sending off, it wasn't near what she deserved, but it was all he could give her.
"I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely, unsure what exactly he was apologizing for, but knowing that there was so much he had to do so for that it didn't really matter.
The wind stole his words, and if there was any mercy in this cruel world it would carry them to wherever Schala was now.
"You were more than just a sister to me, more than just a friend," he told her sadly. "You were the only mother I remember having.
"The woman who gave birth to me, I never feared her not loving me, or losing her respect. She was nothing to me, but you were everything.
"I can't help but feel that if you could see me now, you would be disappointed. I'm bitter and cruel. I've done terrible things, and I can't feel bad about it. You were a woman of upstanding moral stature, and I'm the very antithesis of that.
"I'm lost. I don't know where to turn now. Those children will either defeat Lavos, or they won't. I've proven that I can't, and...
"And now I find I've lost the will to fight. How can I, knowing that my blind desire for revenge has cost you your future?
"That's what they fight for, the future. Maybe if they had been in my place, you wouldn't have died. But even knowing that, I can't feel any compassion for people I don't know, like they do. With you gone, there's no reason for me to fight anymore.
"I need you."
His ending plea caused no change, and he finally allowed his tears to flow again.
"I love you. Please forgive me..."
He pushed the raft into the water, and watched silently through blurred vision until he could no longer see the lights from the candles.
As he began to walk back to the Gate, the Black Omen fell from the sky.
The brats had done it. And the only reason he could find to be grateful was because they had made a fitting memorial for his sister.
Magus approached the nerd's machine without fear. Not that he trusted her supposed genius, but he didn't feel anything anymore.
The blonde twit felt the need to pester him one last time.
"So, are you going to search for Schala?"
He didn't reply, simply stepped into the Gate and let it whisk him to wherever the other end lay.
No, he didn't need to find Schala. He'd already found her. And even if he hadn't, she had always known who she was. He was the one who was lost.
It was time to search for himself.
end