[References parts of the FFXIII novel, Episode Zero: Promise. Pre-game.]
“Me, huh?” Vanille laughs.
Fang spins her around, watching the light dapple the furniture and flood the room. Bhakti crowds around her legs in automated jealousy.
“Yep,” Fang says. “You’re a real charmer. Can’t keep my eyes off you.”
“Oh stop.” Fang grins and leans in first, mouth catching hers mischievously, and it’s like the whole future has rolled out before them: days spent riling each other up into unmatched hysterics, mirrors in everything.
Then the war comes. Anima fails them. Their bunk mates leave one by one. The windmills halt as power is redirected. Oerba hollows out as the fal’Cie send them scurrying like ants from a kicked nest.
Fang volunteers as l’Cie and Vanille follows.
Stupid plan.
The train shrieks its protests in carrying its occupants to their final destination. Fang waits by the terminal, twisting her lance into the top of her sandals. She thinks, is this all we’re allowed to have?
Cocoon hangs above like a second moon, solitary and cold. Fang hates it. They'll hate her more.
“We'll come back,” Vanille says, and kisses her free hand. She sounds unsure.
Fang/Vanille, G, "first and last"
“Me, huh?” Vanille laughs.
Fang spins her around, watching the light dapple the furniture and flood the room. Bhakti crowds around her legs in automated jealousy.
“Yep,” Fang says. “You’re a real charmer. Can’t keep my eyes off you.”
“Oh stop.” Fang grins and leans in first, mouth catching hers mischievously, and it’s like the whole future has rolled out before them: days spent riling each other up into unmatched hysterics, mirrors in everything.
Then the war comes. Anima fails them. Their bunk mates leave one by one. The windmills halt as power is redirected. Oerba hollows out as the fal’Cie send them scurrying like ants from a kicked nest.
Fang volunteers as l’Cie and Vanille follows.
Stupid plan.
The train shrieks its protests in carrying its occupants to their final destination. Fang waits by the terminal, twisting her lance into the top of her sandals. She thinks, is this all we’re allowed to have?
Cocoon hangs above like a second moon, solitary and cold. Fang hates it. They'll hate her more.
“We'll come back,” Vanille says, and kisses her free hand. She sounds unsure.
“We stay together, alright? Whatever craziness happens, you stay close, understood?”
“I will.”
They don’t.