ff_exchange | 2013 KISS BATTLE!

Entry tags:

2013 KISS BATTLE!

Final Fantasy Kissing Battle 2013

RULES

This year, we're creating Master Links for each fandom. When leaving prompts, please put it under the right canon! If in a compilation canon, please leave the important details!

To leave a prompt: leave one prompt per comment, with FANDOM: CHARACTERS/RELATIONSHIP in the subject line and your prompt in the body.

To leave a fill: reply to the comment in question. Please use the subject line of your comment to label your work: TITLE (if relevant), FANDOM, CHARACTERS/RELATIONSHIP, RATING (ANY KINKS, WARNINGS, FLAGS).

There should be kissing! All kinds of kisses are welcome: gen, shippy, smutty, chaste, familial, friendly, angry, happy! We’re pretty open to anything you want to call kissing. We are fans of all of it.

Fanart, fanfiction, drabbles, doodles, live action movies -- whatever you want to supply, we’d like to have it.

Be kind to others regarding character or ship choices and prompts. This should be fun for everyone!

Prompt early, prompt often, and leave as many as you want.

Prompts can be filled multiple times!

To leave a blitzkrieg kiss: If you have something but no one has prompted it yet, blitzkiss away! Just reply to the comment for your fandom, and make sure you use the subject line to label your work.

Be sure to check back often -- new kissing action could be showing up everywhere!

Spread the word! Tell your friends!

FINAL FANTASY KISS BATTLE 2013

We will be running the Kissing Battle on Dreamwidth only. There are two main reasons for this: 1) Dreamwidth’s comment limit is huge, allowing for longer kissing masterpieces; and 2) Dreamwidth still supports subject lines for comments, which are vital to a meme like the Kiss Battle. However, the Battle is open to everyone. Feel free to participate with your Dreamwidth (account creation is invite-free right now~!), your Livejournal or other OpenID account (see here if you want to set up an OpenID), or anonymously.

Have fun! Get smoochin'!

FINAL FANTASY I
FINAL FANTASY II
FINAL FANTASY III
FINAL FANTASY IV COMPILATION
FINAL FANTASY V
FINAL FANTASY VI
FINAL FANTASY VII COMPILATION
FINAL FANTASY VIII
FINAL FANTASY IX
FINAL FANTASY X AND X-2
FINAL FANTASY XI
FINAL FANTASY XII COMPILATION
FINAL FANTASY TACTICS COMPILATION
FINAL FANTASY XIII COMPILATION
DISSIDIA: FINAL FANTASY COMPILATION
FINAL FANTASY: CRYSTAL CHRONICLES COMPILATION
ASSORTED FINAL FANTASY
CROSSOVERS (WITHIN FF)
CROSSOVERS (FF/OTHER)
OTHER / ASSORTED

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Glad you liked!

aaaaaaah ;; poor Sara ;;

Princess is the worst job class, as far as she's concerned.

Ha ha, I kinda want Sara to go buckle some swashes now, too. High seas adventures with Bikke, the pushover pirate!

Ahhh, you have done fun things with dragons. ♥ And I love grown-up Sara as queen!

OMG, the bowl. Awwwwww.

Her rescuers are a many and varied lot, Sarah discovers. Leo offers proudly to carry her any way she likes, which offer she politely declines; it may not be safe to walk on her own two feet but she is no invalid, and in any event she desires to take full advantage of the opportunity to move freely beyond castle walls. Sarisa is stunningly attractive and clever, and she is aware of both of those things; she flirts incorrigibly with Sarah and Leo both, though Sarah is certain that Sarisa is already Leo's lover. Jenica grouses at everyone, but her hands are gentle and competent when she uses her magic to heal the marks on Sarah's wrists from rope and chain (and less gentle handling). Stella is rumpled and plain, but incredibly intelligent; her robes might go wrinkled and stained, but she knows the answer to every question almost before it is asked.

Sarah admires all of them, for their competence and energy; she is grateful to them for rescuing her, and angry at herself for needing it. She watches them banter and chatter even as they smoothly cut their way through anything that would stand in their path, and she wishes she had this easy camaraderie. In the castle, no one is her equal; her parents are above her and everyone else, even her little sister, is beneath her. She wishes for the friendship and challenge they share with each other, and she admits (if only to herself) that she finds all of them attractive in their own way.

Yet it is Stella who draws her most; Jenica is lovely and kind, but too much like Sarah's mother for her own peace of mind, and while Sarah is quite certain Sarisa would dearly love to make good on her outrageous flattery and flirtatious promises, she has no desire to be another feather in the thief's cap. Stella, though, is willing to tell her of the lands beyond the castle, and has read even more books than Sarah has. She also finds Stella's plainness charming; it is real, and already Sarah has played the intrigue game for long enough to value the genuine on the rare occasion when she finds it. And, too, she is charmed by Stella's willingness to make fire dance for her. It makes the black mage's stories even more entertaining than her dryly witty delivery would normally do.

They are sitting up by the fire, long after Jenica has rolled herself into her bedroll and Sarisa and Leo have retreated to...somewhere far enough not to be heard, at least if they plan to heed Jenica's dire imprecations of what will happen if she should overhear them. Sarah knows she should let Stella sleep, for she knows the black mage is too polite to go to sleep until Sarah herself has done so, but she is so enjoying the discussion about the fall of the Lufenian Empire. She has never met anyone else who even knows the Lufenian Empire exists.

Yet she is cognizant that she risks not just her own safety, but her rescuers' safety, and so she makes herself stop. "I should let you sleep," she says.

"Oh, I don't sleep much," Stella says, and then immediately blushes. "Oh, I'm so sorry! You must be tired, I didn't want to keep you up."

"I haven't been sleeping much either," Sarah says.

Stella cocks her head to the side like the inquisitive little sparrows that flock to the crumbs Sarah scatters on her windowsill for them. "Is this a new problem?" she asks.

"Since Garland kidnapped me, yes." When she gets back to the castle, she can have the apothecary make her a sleeping draught, but until then she's so tired she could trip over things.

"I can give you dreamless sleep," Stella offers.

Sarah's eyes widen. "You don't have to do that," she protests. She knows how draining magic can be.

"I'd like to," Stella says firmly.

Sarah tips her head back to look up at the stars. Tomorrow, they will be back in Cornelia. Tonight, she wants something for herself.

She leans over and kisses Stella's cheek, too fast, and bumps her nose into Stella's. So much for the grace of a princess. Her next effort is equally inept, a slightly wet mashing of lips that nonetheless is thrilling.

Still, she is conscious of her position, and that Stella might not want to kiss her, so she pulls back.

Stella's eyes open slowly, and she smiles a little. "That was nice," she says, so softly Sarah almost doesn't hear her over the crackling of the campfire.

"I--" Sarah wrings her hands in her lap. "You don't have to--I won't be offended."

Stella's hand comes up and rests feather-soft on her cheek and then Stella kisses her back, and her lips are warm and soft. Maybe it's not exactly the dazzle of lightning and fire in the romances Sarah has read, but it does send a shiver of pleasure down her spine, and she very much enjoys it. Stella's fingers slide into her hair and she carefully curls a hand around the back of Stella's neck, playing with the short ends of Stella's curls, usually hidden under her pointy hat.

When they have to break apart for breath, Sarah's heart is beating too fast, and she feels a bit tingly all over, which is rather more like what the romances described, though they do it better. Stella has a dreamy half-smile on her face, and it makes Sarah glad--even if she's pretending, it's a pleasant pretense.

They stare at each other for a moment, and then Stella clears her throat. "Um," she says, and Sarah likewise scrambles for something to say.

Stella gets there first. "I'd like to do more of that, but we probably should try to get some sleep," she says. "Do you want me to help you?"

"Please," Sarah says.

Stella gets her tucked into the blanket, gentler than Sarah would have thought for someone who takes that much glee in lighting savage beasts on fire, and whispers words that warp the very air around her. Immediately, Sarah is so sleepy that she could not keep her eyes open if her very life depended on it.

"If you wanted to visit Cornelia again, when you're done with your Crystals, you should," she mumbles, right before she drops off.

She feels Stella's hand gentle on her cheek as she does.

Ahhhh, Sarah is delightful in this, and I love the wonkiness of time loopery. YES.

OMG YAY! This was super cute, exactly what I was hoping for! Thank you so much!

WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS

I support this pairing. Special skilled ladies 4 the win

Hee, I do love this party. ♥

And I really love Sarah sizing them all up and adorably nerding out with Stella!

I'M NOT A NICE PERSON

I love them too! Originally I meant to have it be Sarisa but I thought Stella should get to be the star (....ow, that pun) at least once.

Sarah's very good at reading people, I think. Well, she'd have to be.

By now the sight of the walls of the guest chamber in the mages’ hall at Mysidia is even more familiar to Kain Highwind than his old room in Baron. (Sometimes that time seems dreamlike, in contrast to the bleak and elemental reality of his life on Mount Ordeals.) He listens, without turning his head.

The sound is as familiar as the sight: Porom’s footsteps on the stone floor. Kain closes his eyes, relaxing as much as he allows himself to. “Lady Porom.” He essays a smile without looking to see her reaction. “We really must stop meeting like this.”

“I couldn’t agree more, and it’s entirely up to you.” The waspish note in her tone stings, as much for its familiarity as its sharpness.

(He can remember Rosa excoriating him and Cecil thusly, when they’d taken what she considered to be a foolish risk. But she’d heal them anyway, just the same.)

He keeps his eyes closed, listens as she comes to sit beside him. “Forgive me.”

“Forgiveness is for those who’ve repented.” He starts in confusion. “Or aren’t you going right back up that mountain again once I’ve healed you?”

“You are... hardly the only one to whom I owe penance.”

“I thought as much.” Porom lets out an exasperated sigh--- and this, too, is so much like Rosa that he has to open his eyes.

He starts at what he sees, the first unfamiliar piece of this puzzle: Porom has dyed her hair, a bright pink. She catches him staring, returns a hard look.

“Forgive me,” he says again (there is always, it seems, something in his conduct for which he must beg forgiveness). “The color becomes you.”

“Thank you.” Her blush turns her cheeks the same color as her hair. “I wanted... something distinctive.”

“Distinctive?”

“Palom has his ways of being flashy--- I thought I’d find my own.”

He looks up at her. Thinks of what it is to be overshadowed by a brother. “I have always,” he says finally, “preferred your company to his.” Her blush deepens. Impulsively, moved more by fellow-feeling than by any amorous intent, he catches her hand and lifts it to his lips.

She stares at him for a moment, then snatches her hand back, catching a breath. They stare at each other for a heartbeat--- then she bends over him.

Her lips are soft on his; after a moment, he returns the kiss (the first time he’s kissed a woman not Rosa of his own volition--- and no, he will not think of Barbariccia.)

After a moment, she draws back from him. “I--- thank you.”

“It was hardly,” he says, his lips quirking upward, “onerous.”

For a moment, she looks at him, her cheeks burning--- then she laughs, hesitantly at first, until he joins her.

Reno is not the best patient in the world; and all the more so when he’s only got himself to blame.

“Aw, how come I gotta sit this one out?” he whines from where he’s ensconced on the couch in the breakroom (the medicos had let him out, more because, Rude suspects, they were tired of dealing with his idea of how to entertain himself than because he doesn’t need to keep that leg of his in traction) when the call comes.

Rude shakes his head. “If you’d been more careful on the last one, you’d be going on this one,” he can’t resist pointing out.

“Aw, man---“

Forestalling round however-many of Reno’s litany of complaints, Rude gets to his feet. “I’ll see you after.” He starts past the couch, and, in passing, leans over to brush his lips over Reno’s in the familiar gesture.

As expected, Reno subsides, even if he does mutter something about teases as Rude heads out the door.

aaaaaaah

ahhhhhhhhhhhh

oh, I love the similarities in this, and Kain's snark is perfect, and Porom wanting to get out of the shadow of her brother - ahhhhhhhhhh *squeaking goes here*

“Isn’t this fun?” Yuffie yells, over the roar of the wind in their ears as Fenrir speeds down the highway.

Cloud is concentrating on holding the bike steady; at these speeds, it’s a challenge even to his enhanced (but not SOLDIER, never SOLDIER) strength and reflexes. “Don’t know if I’d call it that,” he calls over his shoulder.

Yuffie laughs. “Don’t be a spoilsport.” He doesn’t need to look over his shoulder to know that the town’s militia are behind them still. “What’s life without a little thrill?”

He starts to reply, but then her arms are around his chest with a closer grip than the need to hang on warrants, and her lips are brushing his ear and jaw, and suddenly, he kind of sees her point.

She is quick and bright like her namesame, and just as deadly. Kain thinks it is as much his hunger for penance as any sweeter urge that draws him to her.

Though what he does one afternoon between battles transcends expiation and recklessness alike.

They are sitting side by side on a plinth--- he thinks she has chosen that position the better to keep watch over him, prevent a repeat of his attacks on their comrades--- and the cold sharp sun of this strange world glints off her gunblade, doesn’t brighten her grim expression.

It’s an impulse: almost before he’s fully formed the thought, he’s leaning forward; has the barest brush of her skin--- surprisingly soft--- beneath his lips before she draws back. “What the hell was that?”

“Forgive me.” He jerks back as if burnt, as if her skin crackled with her namesake. “It was--- an impulse; a foolish one.”

When he dares to look back, she’s regarding him intently. “So that’s how it is.” One corner of her lip twists upward. “I wondered why you hadn’t ambushed me like you did the others.”

“It was selfish--- not to give you the chance to survive.” His own lip twists in answer. “Not to mention that such a contest would not have favored me.”

To his surprise, that gets an almost-smile out of her. “Flattery’s not gonna win me over.” Then, slowly, her expression turns serious. “Don’t take this the wrong way--- but, you started this, I’m gonna finish it.”

There is nothing quick about the way she leans in, and nothing quick about the way her mouth claims his for her own.

But it is the brightest thing Kain has ever felt, and more than he deserves.

alskdjflkjasdf

oh my god

oh, my God. This is fantastic--the first line is perfection, and it just gets better from there. I actually made high-pitched squeaking noises out loud. oh my God. This is amazing. Thank you so much!

I MIGHT HAVE ALL THE POROM LOVE. Because she is totally awesome (and I totally think the Elder sent them off with Cecil because a white mage? Totally more useful going up Mt. Ordeals than Mr. "I'm So Awesome" Palom, because Porom can heal AND kill, lol.) But, oh, I'm so glad you liked it (and it's not even your prompt! Yay!)

She remembers that someone once promised to protect her; he remembers there was someone he'd have wrecked worlds to protect. The pieces fit, if they try hard enough.

I am squeaking right back at you at this comment! The first line was totally inspired by the song you quoted to me, "Lightning Does The Work" because, well, yeah. And I am so, so, so glad you like it!!! YAY!!!

I love it. It is definitely going in my recs for this round.

Thank you!

Kain hears them coming long before he sees them. It's not just Edge's inability to ever be quiet (for a ninja, he makes a lot of noise, although Kain is just fair enough to admit that when Edge wants to be quiet, he is absolutely silent), nor is it the fwoosh of Rydia's fire spells or the ear-splitting thunderclaps that echo when Rydia seizes lightning out of a clear blue sky.

It's the shuffling as the undead rush to fight something other than him, and the echo of boot heels on stone. Kain knows most of the mountain's moods by now, its sounds and its seasons. His own presence impacts it; theirs brings more change.

So he is not surprised when they burst onto the summit, but neither does he go so far as to move to greet them. He waits beside KluYa's sanctuary, his spear at his side and uncovered. He doesn't think he will need to fight them, but one never knows, or so he tells himself. In truth, he does not know why they are here. He would think Cecil would do his own dirty work, but the part of Kain that King Odin tried to train into Cecil's eventual left hand thinks it's more deniable this way, and thus more logical.

Edge must have noticed, because he suddenly is standing between Rydia and Kain, and while he doesn't have his swords drawn here in the safe zone on the summit, he also doesn't have his hands far from the hilts. Rydia looks entirely unimpressed at his efforts to protect her.

"Greetings," Kain says, when they are close enough that he need not shout.

Edge rolls his eyes, visible even behind his veil. "Greetings? Really? That's what you have?" he asks.

Did his spear not make it impossible, Kain would fold his arms. As it is, he sighs quietly. "What did you expect? I can hardly lay a festival table up here," he points out.

Edge splutters. Rydia, to her great credit, does not shove him down the mountainside. "I think Edge was expecting a more enthusiastic greeting," she says mildly.

The awkward silence spins out between them, until at length Kain sighs and gestures with his shield-hand. "I have no proper seats to offer you," he says, "but you are welcome to what I have."

"Oh, we've got that covered," Edge says, swinging down a pack heavy enough to make a thud like a dead body. From within it, he produces a marvelous little folding table and several of the flat cushions that the Eblanese and Fabulian people alike favor. In a matter of minutes, he has set a table with journey rations and wine. Kain watches, astonished and uncertain of what to say.

"Are you going to join us, or loom disapprovingly?" Rydia asks, sinking neatly into a kneeling position on one side of the table.

Kain hastily covers his spear and leaves it propped against his tent, along with his shield. He is wearing only light ringmail--he does not need full plate up here, not with the safe field keeping the undead away, and whether they had come in friendship or enmity, he had not felt the need to fully armour himself. He kneels gingerly on Rydia's left, with Edge at his own left.

Another silence falls as they all stare at each other.

"Food first," Edge says, "and talk later."

When they had all traveled together, mealtimes would often be silent from their sheer exhaustion. Fighting an ancient evil was no easy task. Yet that silence had not been strained; this stretches out thin as spun glass, and as sharp when shattered. The hard bread they brought is fresher than what Kain trades for with the Mysidians, who bring foodstuffs to leave at the base of the mountain and take the reagants he harvested from the undead in return. He does not recognize the spices in the jerked meat, but it is not unpleasant. Rydia even unveils slices of dried fruit, wholly unfamiliar to him but sweet and slightly tangy, vividly yellow in colour and chewy.

When the wine has brought colour to all their faces and the food is gone, Edge clears his throat. Kain has been observing, and there is a tension between Edge and Rydia, and more that they carry with them like Edge's pack. He mislikes it.

"We aren't just here to socialize," Edge says eventually.

Sick dread gathers in Kain's stomach. "Cecil and Rosa?" he asks, already dreading the answer.

"No, nobody's hurt or ill," Rydia hastens to assure him. She looks away, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. "It's more....I can't stand all the people, watching me."

"And I'm about done with being King," Edge says, and then glares at Kain. "Don't even say it."

In point of fact, Kain did not actually intend to speak aloud his thought that he is surprised it had taken Edge so long to declare frustration, but he is now perversely determined to speak it. Still, he respects the word of royalty, even potentially-abdicated royalty.

"We haven't left for good." Rydia says it very quietly into her empty cup. "I mean, we'll go back." She looks up and her green eyes are haunted and hunted, her shoulders curled inward. That isn't right. Rydia always stands tall. "Just not right now."

Edge doesn't say anything, but he's still--much too still. Edge has never been one to hold still when he can move.

Kain nods. "I am afraid my own accommodations are not suitable for multiple occupants," he said, "but there is much space here." It will be strange to have noise other than that he makes here. He is not sure that he likes the idea. On the other hand, he can hardly tell them to go when in fact they are doing much as he did. Traitor he may be, and a disappointment to all who know him besides, but Kain will not be a hypocrite--in this, at least.

"We brought tents," Edge says. "And sleeping bags."

Kain wonders how long they intend to stay, but says nothing. "Please, allow me to assist," he says instead.

Edge cracks a few inappropriate jokes as they set up the tents, but fewer than Kain might have expected; that, as much as anything else, speaks to the seriousness of the situation. Kain wonders what drove them here, but he is not boorish enough to ask.

Hours stretch into days, then a week; they speak little if at all, each caught up in their own thoughts. Kain finds it strangely comforting to have them there, reminders that there is a world out there that remembers him. Edge is an excellent cook, and Rydia and her chocobo are effective enough hunters to make sure that they never want for meat. They all avoid KluYa's sanctuary, and they all avoid speaking about anything other than basic necessities like food.

It is Edge who breaks first, ten days after their arrival. "It's not that I mind being King," he says abruptly, stabbing a bit of roasted hare with his belt knife. "It's that no one wants me to be King my way. They all want me to be my father."

Kain can think of several excellent reasons why Edge should not be allowed free rein, many of them including inappropriate suggestions, but however much sarcasm he might employ to the contrary, he is aware that Edge is capable of doing the job properly, if flippantly. "It is difficult," he says instead, "to be required to emulate someone with little thought to your own needs."

"Yes, exactly," Edge says. "I can be a good King. I know what I'm doing. I'm just not going to spend all day every day in a closed room talking to old men who think I'm stupid because they remember me in swaddling."

"At least they treat you like you're human," Rydia says, and gets up from their little folding table to walk away into the darkness.

Kain puts a hand on Edge's shoulder when he would have followed her. Rydia is quite capable of defending herself against anything that might attack her on the slopes of Mt. Ordeals.

Edge slumps a little. "That's it, too," he says. "They all treat her like she's a savage beast who will burn them all to death for an insult--which doesn't stop them insulting her when they think she can't hear--instead of a person. Who cares if she doesn't know the order of steps for formal court dances? It doesn't make her less of a person." He drains his cup of wine and puts it down with an exaggerated care that speaks volumes. "She doesn't want me to defend her, and they all think I'm abusing my power and womanizing when I want her to stay in Eblan--and I don't want her to stay if she's unhappy, but I can't leave."

Kain has no answer for that, and the silence spins out sharp and brittle until Edge gets to his feet and hurries into his tent, leaving Kain alone by the fire.

Three days later, he goes hunting with Rydia in the forest at the foot of the mountain, because she requested his company. He doesn't make small talk, simply goes with her and helps field-dress their spoils.

"I don't want to go back to Mist and be alone," she says, "but I can't stay there when they all watch me like I'm going to go on a mad rampage." Her grip is too harsh, and she snaps the snare she is trying to place. With an oath, she throws it aside. "I can't make them respect me, I know that. But being alone in a dead village is better than being alone in a castle of vipers."

Kain is at a loss. Even in Baron, and long before Golbez, black mages are feared; their power is destructive. "Do you want them to learn to respect you?" he asks. "Or do you merely want them not to insult you?"

Rydia stares at the branch she is bending. "I don't know. What is their respect worth?"

"I can't tell you that." He laughs, mirthlessly. "Why do you think I am still here?"

She looks up. In her green robes, she might be a forest spirit, found roaming free. Her face is thinner than he remembers, sharp planes and cheekbones like blades, and her eyes are dark as the shadows of the pine trees. She is beautiful and terrifying, a force of nature. He has the impulse to drop to his knees and offer her prayers, sacrifices, anything she would demand. He resists it.

"You have a home to go back to," she says.

He nods. "A home I tried to destroy--as I helped destroy yours," he points out.

She flinches. He would not blame her if she reached for her magic. She does not.

"It is not the same," she says, each word distinct.

He nods again. "I know."

They do not speak again for two days.

Edited (subject line fix) 2013-02-13 01:29 (UTC)

holy hell, I broke the DW comment limit!

The three of them fall into a rhythm that needs no words; the chores are divided up without discussion, and there is a thin and fragile comfort in their silences, although he knows Rydia is still angry with him and Edge is still hurt that Rydia is not happy. He dares not speak to either of them again, for he has no comfort or aid to offer, only more reminders of the destruction he helped wreak upon their homes.

Two weeks after Edge and Rydia first arrived on Mount Ordeals, they are sitting by the fire as the stars bloom above their heads. Edge and Rydia are sitting almost close enough to touch, but not quite. Still, Kain envies them that closeness; something important enough to them that they came out here to think it out rather than let it go. They have spoken to each other as little as they have spoken to him, but it is there in the small movements, the way Rydia always knows what implement Edge is looking for next when he prepares food, or the way Edge is there with a helping hand when Rydia is dressing game. It is a closeness that Cecil and Rosa share as well, and one that Kain has ever envied.

Rydia looks back over her shoulder. "Come sit with us," she says, sounding tired. "There's no need to skulk."

Kain gets up and walks over to Edge's other side, away from Rydia. Edge grunts and reaches up to grab Kain's wrist. "Sit with us," he says sharply, "not just as far away." He jerks his head toward the space between them, which is large enough for one person.

Kain hesitates, but he goes, because he cannot think of a polite way to decline, and the idea holds appeal. He is close enough to feel the warmth from both of them as he settles down; not much, not touching, but enough.

The silence between them feels less brittle now, and it is foolish to ascribe it to his closer position, but he wants to. He has not felt this comfortable since...since the days when he and Cecil and Rosa were children, before Kain realized the different positions that he and Cecil occupied within Baron's hierarchy.

He has the sense that some communication is passing between Edge and Rydia, but he is unsure of its content. Because he feels like the worst kind of interloper spying upon them, he tilts his head back to look at the stars, tracing the constellations out in his mind. Ifrit, Shiva, Ramuh--it sends a chill down his spine to realize that all the shapes in their sky are echoed beneath the ground, and that Rydia can call them to her hand as she wishes.

He is sufficiently distracted by the stars that it takes him entirely by surprise when Edge kisses him.

It is not a long kiss, rather a firm press of lips on lips and the feel of warm fingers against his hand, and then Edge leans back and smirks.

Kain has no words. He stares blankly until Rydia clears her throat, and then he looks to the side to see her with an expectant little smile quirking her lips.

"Well, what about me?" she asks.

Kain isn't sure he heard her correctly, and glances at Edge, who is grinning fit to crack his face, ninja veil having been abandoned at some point when Kain was not paying attention. Slowly he leans toward Rydia, half-convinced this is all a joke, but she comes to meet him and she smells of the forest and growing things and the dark places beneath the earth, and her magic crackles around her, sparks and shivers and heat, and when he leans back he finds himself promptly tackled by Edge.

"So we had this idea," Edge says.

Kain cannot help it; being pinned makes all his muscles tense and he must fight the urge to fling Edge bodily off him. Edge notices, which surprises him, and it surprises him more that Edge jumps fluidly to his feet and crouches next to him instead.

"Sorry about that," Edge says. "Anyway. We had this idea."

"We're going back to Eblan in the morning," Rydia says. "And we think you should come with us."

Kain sits up slowly, trying to think past the distracting remnants of his reaction to their kisses. "It is not that I am not grateful--" he begins.

Edge punches him in the shoulder, hard.

"This isn't about gratitude. Don't be an asshole," Edge says.

"What Edge is trying to say is that we want you there," Rydia says.

Kain studies her, the forest maiden growing from the stone, and then looks at Edge, crouched like a shadow at the edge of his vision. "In what capacity?" he asks.

"Does it matter?" Edge says, clearly exasperated. "If it makes you happy we'll call you a military advisor, since it's probably rude to say 'the guy hopefully joining me and Rydia in bed,' but why bother giving it a name? You're our friend, you're allowed to come for a visit, or an extended stay."

Kain doesn't doubt that Edge would have an interest, prurient or not, in that outcome, but it is Rydia he looks to, Rydia whose permission he seeks. "And for one who has done unforgivable things?" he asks.

She nods, slow and sober. "Then one should consider how to make amends," she says, "but this is not about that. Edge spoke for both of us, but don't think we did not discuss it first." She tips her head to the side. "Just as I am not being forced, neither are you. If you do not wish it, or if you are not ready, then the invitation remains open."

Cecil and Rosa will be angry if he goes somewhere else without going home, but where the idea of Eblan is intriguing, the thought of facing them again grabs his throat and squeezes like Barbariccia in her cruelest mood. He can't help the shudder that wracks him. "I should...at least tell Cecil and Rosa where I am going," he makes himself say.

"Well, obviously," Edge says. At Kain's disbelieving look, he rolls his eyes. "Look, I don't plan to explain to them how you wound up in Eblan without at least saying hello to them!"

"Then I would be honoured to accept your invitation," Kain says quietly, and leans toward Edge to seal it with a kiss. This one is longer, and hotter, and somehow he finds himself with his sword-hand twined tight in Edge's hair, holding the King of Eblan close while they kiss.

When Rydia bodily knocks Edge out of the way to claim her share of the spoils, Kain laughs unfettered for the first time in months.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 18 of 26

2013 KISS BATTLE!

Re: Loss; FFVI: Setzer/Blackjack

Re: Free: FFI: Sara/Lady Red Mage, PG

Re: Free: FFI: Sara/Lady Red Mage, PG

Re: Free: FFI: Sara/Lady Red Mage, PG

Re: Something, FFI, Sara/Female!Light Warrior, PG-13

Re: "Distraction", FFVIII: Angelo + Squall, G

Not Quite Like the Stories (FFI, Sarah/f!Black Mage, G)

Re: Something, FFI, Sara/Female!Light Warrior, PG-13

Re: "Distraction", FFVIII: Angelo + Squall, G

Re: BLITZKISS: FFVIII/Teen Wolf: Ellone/Lydia, PG-13

Re: Not Quite Like the Stories (FFI, Sarah/f!Black Mage, G)

Re: BLITZKISS: FFVIII/Teen Wolf: Ellone/Lydia, PG-13

Re: Not Quite Like the Stories (FFI, Sarah/f!Black Mage, G)

Re: TAY: Kain/Porom

Re: FFVII, any canon where character appears, Yuffie/Anyone

Re: TAY: Kain/Porom

Re: FFVII, any canon where character appears, Yuffie/Anyone

Re: Dissidia Duodecim Final Fantasy: Kain/Lightning

Re: Dissidia Duodecim Final Fantasy: Kain/Lightning

Re: TAY: Kain/Porom

DDFF: Sephiroth/Tifa

Re: Dissidia Duodecim Final Fantasy: Kain/Lightning

Re: Dissidia Duodecim Final Fantasy: Kain/Lightning

Breaking the Silence [1/2] (Rydia/Edge/Kain, PG)

Breaking the Silence [2/2] (Rydia/Edge/Kain, PG)