At the very edge of the Golmore Jungle, Fran stops and looks back.
The others go on; all save Balthier, who stops at her side. (He is only selfish and self-absorbed when it doesn't matter, she has found; when it counts, when she needs him, he is the best partner an exiled viera, who is thus viera no more, could wish.) "Missing your forest?" he asks lowly.
She tilts her head. "It is my forest no longer," and with the words, giving voice to the truth she had tried so hard to ignore, to forget, the tears slip over her lashes.
A gentle hand tugs at one of her ears--- they are sensitive, so sensitive, but Balthier's hands have always been deft enough, from the first--- and she bends to him. Wordlessly, he takes her face in his hands, kisses her forehead lightly. She leans her head against his, taking comfort from the touch, grateful that he does not try to use words to soothe what cannot be soothed.
He knows. He too is exiled by his own will, making of himself orphan and alien and else, and he knows that there are no words for it, for the empty aching place inside where home should be.
Except that it is not so aching, nor so empty, while he is there to fill it; and she knows she does as much for him.
When she stirs, finally, her need for solace slaked, he leans back, shakes himself slightly, and is every inch the sky pirate, the "leading man" that he likes to style himself. "Come on, bunny rabbit," he says, the half-mocking pet name for her that she only tolerates under specific circumstances--- such as when the annoyance is a welcome relief; such as now--- "we've an empire to topple."
He saunters off, and she follows him, thinking that she is more fortunate than he is.
The wood, after all, will still be here, though she return to it not; and it is hardly her lot to burn it down.
"Grownup Orphans", FFXII, Fran & Balthier (F/B if you squint), G
The others go on; all save Balthier, who stops at her side. (He is only selfish and self-absorbed when it doesn't matter, she has found; when it counts, when she needs him, he is the best partner an exiled viera, who is thus viera no more, could wish.) "Missing your forest?" he asks lowly.
She tilts her head. "It is my forest no longer," and with the words, giving voice to the truth she had tried so hard to ignore, to forget, the tears slip over her lashes.
A gentle hand tugs at one of her ears--- they are sensitive, so sensitive, but Balthier's hands have always been deft enough, from the first--- and she bends to him. Wordlessly, he takes her face in his hands, kisses her forehead lightly. She leans her head against his, taking comfort from the touch, grateful that he does not try to use words to soothe what cannot be soothed.
He knows. He too is exiled by his own will, making of himself orphan and alien and else, and he knows that there are no words for it, for the empty aching place inside where home should be.
Except that it is not so aching, nor so empty, while he is there to fill it; and she knows she does as much for him.
When she stirs, finally, her need for solace slaked, he leans back, shakes himself slightly, and is every inch the sky pirate, the "leading man" that he likes to style himself. "Come on, bunny rabbit," he says, the half-mocking pet name for her that she only tolerates under specific circumstances--- such as when the annoyance is a welcome relief; such as now--- "we've an empire to topple."
He saunters off, and she follows him, thinking that she is more fortunate than he is.
The wood, after all, will still be here, though she return to it not; and it is hardly her lot to burn it down.