Over a year passes before Rikku can bring herself to return to Besaid.
She steps into the temple, dark and cool and silent, a wreath of flowers clutched in her hands. For over an hour she'd wandered around Kilika, picking wildflowers, psyching herself up to get on the ferry. Then she spent the entire voyage weaving them together -- she needed something to do with her hands, something to distract her from this much-delayed journey. Walking up the mountain from the beach, she picked even more, working them into the design, yellow and orange and purple and pink, bright spots against the green of the leaves. She glances down at it, turns it over in her hands, and lets her eyes adjust to the dim room.
She arrived alone and spoke to no one -- none of the villagers, not Luzzu or the Aurochs, not even Wakka and Lulu. She should visit them, she knows, but she's not ready to deal with their grief yet. Not when she's barely ready to even face her own. But that's why she's here: to face down her feelings. After, she tells herself. She'll see them after. Once her errand is done.
Taking a deep breath, she raises her chin and looks up -- and up, and up, into the stone face of the newest High Summoner, placed in honor at the center of the temple hall. The resemblance is perfect: somehow, even in the cold medium of stone, the sculptor has captured Yuna's beauty, the sweeping motion of her dress, her gentle smile. Even as the tears well in Rikku's eyes, there's a relief that comes with the pain, in getting to see even a part of Yuna again. Rikku steps forward and rests a hand on Yuna's hand, larger than life but just as graceful.
"Oh Yunie." Rikku breathes out the words, then shakes her head. "I don't understand why you wouldn't-- why you had to--" She lowers her eyes and swallows. "Well, no, that's not really true. I guess do understand. But I miss you." Standing on tiptoe, she tosses the wreath of flowers over Yuna's head. It settles there and sits atop her hair, like a crown, the colors bright and alive against the gray granite. Rikku smiles through her tears. "Well, that's a little better anyway," she murmurs. She wraps her hand around Yuna's arm and clambers up the statue, pressing her lips against the hard stone cheek. "I promise not to be gone so long next time."
"Wreathed in Glory", FFX, Rikku(/Yuna), PG (AU)
She steps into the temple, dark and cool and silent, a wreath of flowers clutched in her hands. For over an hour she'd wandered around Kilika, picking wildflowers, psyching herself up to get on the ferry. Then she spent the entire voyage weaving them together -- she needed something to do with her hands, something to distract her from this much-delayed journey. Walking up the mountain from the beach, she picked even more, working them into the design, yellow and orange and purple and pink, bright spots against the green of the leaves. She glances down at it, turns it over in her hands, and lets her eyes adjust to the dim room.
She arrived alone and spoke to no one -- none of the villagers, not Luzzu or the Aurochs, not even Wakka and Lulu. She should visit them, she knows, but she's not ready to deal with their grief yet. Not when she's barely ready to even face her own. But that's why she's here: to face down her feelings. After, she tells herself. She'll see them after. Once her errand is done.
Taking a deep breath, she raises her chin and looks up -- and up, and up, into the stone face of the newest High Summoner, placed in honor at the center of the temple hall. The resemblance is perfect: somehow, even in the cold medium of stone, the sculptor has captured Yuna's beauty, the sweeping motion of her dress, her gentle smile. Even as the tears well in Rikku's eyes, there's a relief that comes with the pain, in getting to see even a part of Yuna again. Rikku steps forward and rests a hand on Yuna's hand, larger than life but just as graceful.
"Oh Yunie." Rikku breathes out the words, then shakes her head. "I don't understand why you wouldn't-- why you had to--" She lowers her eyes and swallows. "Well, no, that's not really true. I guess do understand. But I miss you." Standing on tiptoe, she tosses the wreath of flowers over Yuna's head. It settles there and sits atop her hair, like a crown, the colors bright and alive against the gray granite. Rikku smiles through her tears. "Well, that's a little better anyway," she murmurs. She wraps her hand around Yuna's arm and clambers up the statue, pressing her lips against the hard stone cheek. "I promise not to be gone so long next time."