After everyone has gone to sleep, Lulu finds him lingering outside the temple.
“‘You don’t know what it’s like’?”
There’s a single perfectly arched brow arching even higher, skepticism and unkind bewilderment making her voice more severe than it already is.
“That was…” He trails off.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
Maybe she shouldn’t be so gentle with him, but he’s grieving; she can’t add to it. Wakka found gentleness, after all, and managed to let go of his anger. She ought to be able to do the same. But those words bounce around in her mind, the audacity incensing her - you don’t know what it’s like.
Luzzu, standing there, telling them that they don’t know loss.
Her eyelids flicker, just so, and she continues, because it’s clear he won’t.
“We all grew up together. Wakka, Chappu, Yuna, Gatta, Botta, Keepa -- myself, and - you, Luzzu. Our little island never had much defense. We all lost brothers, friends, and parents.”
He endures her little spiel, eyes to the ground. Is he ashamed, contrite? Or does he wish he was anywhere else right now?
Still, she keeps going. “You’re alive. So make something of it.”
He takes a knee, trembling despite the temple’s electricity warming the ground around them. Maybe he just can’t stand anymore. She doesn’t give him the grace of turning a blind eye to his anguish.
“Hm. You really are a weak man, aren’t you?”
He finally answers her, doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Luzzu reaches for her hands. She doesn’t pull away, even though she wants to. She doesn’t want to be the one who has to offer him absolution after Wakka already did - offended, perhaps, on her long-time friend’s behalf that he wouldn’t be enough -
But it’s Luzzu, who she’s known just as long -
His lips, ice-cold, touch her knuckles as her fingers fold about his. She touches his face, feels the ridge of bone under his eye, cradles his jaw.
Something she thought long dead rises like a tide within her.
lulu/luzzu - you don't.
“‘You don’t know what it’s like’?”
There’s a single perfectly arched brow arching even higher, skepticism and unkind bewilderment making her voice more severe than it already is.
“That was…” He trails off.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
Maybe she shouldn’t be so gentle with him, but he’s grieving; she can’t add to it. Wakka found gentleness, after all, and managed to let go of his anger. She ought to be able to do the same. But those words bounce around in her mind, the audacity incensing her - you don’t know what it’s like.
Luzzu, standing there, telling them that they don’t know loss.
Her eyelids flicker, just so, and she continues, because it’s clear he won’t.
“We all grew up together. Wakka, Chappu, Yuna, Gatta, Botta, Keepa -- myself, and - you, Luzzu. Our little island never had much defense. We all lost brothers, friends, and parents.”
He endures her little spiel, eyes to the ground. Is he ashamed, contrite? Or does he wish he was anywhere else right now?
Still, she keeps going. “You’re alive. So make something of it.”
He takes a knee, trembling despite the temple’s electricity warming the ground around them. Maybe he just can’t stand anymore. She doesn’t give him the grace of turning a blind eye to his anguish.
“Hm. You really are a weak man, aren’t you?”
He finally answers her, doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Luzzu reaches for her hands. She doesn’t pull away, even though she wants to. She doesn’t want to be the one who has to offer him absolution after Wakka already did - offended, perhaps, on her long-time friend’s behalf that he wouldn’t be enough -
But it’s Luzzu, who she’s known just as long -
His lips, ice-cold, touch her knuckles as her fingers fold about his. She touches his face, feels the ridge of bone under his eye, cradles his jaw.
Something she thought long dead rises like a tide within her.
Neither of them go inside for a long time.
lulu's voice is a mystery, help