Athena (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
everlastingsoul) wrote2006-12-30 02:38 am
everlastingsoul) wrote2006-12-30 02:38 am
Entry tags:
Suikoden V drabble/short story thing...
Suikoden V drabble. Gizel/Sialeeds. Strange, bittersweet, and more than likely confusing. Wrote this on two different days, and it definitely shows.
Warnings: Spoilers if you squint. Maybe.
Word count: 795
Started: December 11, 2006 (7:49 PM)
Finished: December 30, 3006 (2:30 AM)
"Hanging On"
Gizel Godwin almost laughed at the absurdity of it all.
But he had spent the second year laughing, and the humor of the situation had all but died with the coming of the eighth.
His arm was numb, and he swore his fingers were black under his cotton gloves.
"Are you counting the days?" he lightly inquired, looking down at his literal damsel in distress.
Sialeeds did not meet his gaze, her eyes shut wearily. "There are no days to count. Just pain."
It was hardly the dry wit Gizel had long associated with the older woman, but limbo did things to people. He settled his cheek against his bicep, no longer able anything below the shoulder. "I wasn't aware you could count pain."
Sometime three years ago, Sialeeds had asked if Gizel had gone mad. He had smiled placidly and shut his eyes, choosing to feign sleep rather than answer. She had never asked since. "It's been eight years, Gizel."
He tilted his face, noticing she had opened her eyes to look up at him. "So you were counting," he commented, almost wistful.
"Most people would have let go by now." Sialeeds sighed and dropped her gaze down to the endless darkness below. It seemed to swirl underneath, moving like a living creature.
Eight years, she had swayed in nothingness with only Gizel to anchor her. Eight years, he had clutched at her hand with all the stubbornness of a noble bratling. Eight years, they had remained within arm's length of each other, never really seeing one another.
"I am not most people."
"And that's why we're still here." Emphasizing took effort; eight years of barely holding on sucked the energy out of a person.
"You seem upset." Though he had closed his eyes and rested his head again, the man could sense the frustration Sialeeds had been so careful to hide.
"... Eight years is a long time."
"It is."
Silence hung in the air, and Sialeeds found herself envying it. At least the silence could end, unlike this torturous situation. Holding on was wearing both of them down--Gizel more so than herself. All she could do was wait for him; no amount of effort on her part would free her from his deathgrip.
She stared down into the depths she had been hovering over for the last eight years. There was Arshtat, reading to her daughter. There was Ferid, proudly watching his son train. There was Gizel's entrance into Falenan politics, in the shadow of his father Marscal. There was Kyle, flirting with her over her favorite liquor.
They were flashes of her life from the past eight years. Moments of joy and love that she yearned to immerse herself in.
But here she was, forever hanging in Gizel's grasp.
"Why?"
She had asked him the same question several times in the past, but felt the need to ask again. "Why haven't you let go?"
Gizel was silent, as he was when she presented a question he did not want to answer. His patience, or some mad cousin of it, allowed him to maintain that silence. It had kept him safe for the last eight years, through icy conversations and formal gatherings that could not be avoided.
The eighth year, however, brought with it the tides of war. In the depths, Sialeeds could see the plot of the Godwins, slaughter of Falenans, the reemergence of Nether Gate--and her family, torn asunder. She could feel the end coming, and knew that time was running out.
It had never been about herself, really. Though she had spent the first four years snapping at Gizel to free her and leave her alone, she had known that this was not a matter of saving herself.
The one suffering was the one holding on, and it most certainly was not her.
The war was escalating with each passing week, and Sialeeds apprehensively looked to Gizel. He seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts, closed off to her as he had been for the last eight years. His smiles were practiced and polished, never reaching his eyes.
She glanced again at the depths as her nephew marched to take back the capital.
"It's not too late, Gizel. You can still let go."
Gizel's eyes opened, and she found herself gazing up at eyes burning with fervor. It was so unlike him that she had to stare. "Eight years and you still think I'll let you go. Unbelievable."
"Better to die unburdened than to die yearning."
There was a flicker of bitterness in his eyes--brief and almost unnoticeable. "Better to yearn than to fool yourself for eight years."
And as the ledge collapsed and they fell to their deaths, Sialeeds had to wonder who was holding onto who.
Warnings: Spoilers if you squint. Maybe.
Word count: 795
Started: December 11, 2006 (7:49 PM)
Finished: December 30, 3006 (2:30 AM)
Gizel Godwin almost laughed at the absurdity of it all.
But he had spent the second year laughing, and the humor of the situation had all but died with the coming of the eighth.
His arm was numb, and he swore his fingers were black under his cotton gloves.
"Are you counting the days?" he lightly inquired, looking down at his literal damsel in distress.
Sialeeds did not meet his gaze, her eyes shut wearily. "There are no days to count. Just pain."
It was hardly the dry wit Gizel had long associated with the older woman, but limbo did things to people. He settled his cheek against his bicep, no longer able anything below the shoulder. "I wasn't aware you could count pain."
Sometime three years ago, Sialeeds had asked if Gizel had gone mad. He had smiled placidly and shut his eyes, choosing to feign sleep rather than answer. She had never asked since. "It's been eight years, Gizel."
He tilted his face, noticing she had opened her eyes to look up at him. "So you were counting," he commented, almost wistful.
"Most people would have let go by now." Sialeeds sighed and dropped her gaze down to the endless darkness below. It seemed to swirl underneath, moving like a living creature.
Eight years, she had swayed in nothingness with only Gizel to anchor her. Eight years, he had clutched at her hand with all the stubbornness of a noble bratling. Eight years, they had remained within arm's length of each other, never really seeing one another.
"I am not most people."
"And that's why we're still here." Emphasizing took effort; eight years of barely holding on sucked the energy out of a person.
"You seem upset." Though he had closed his eyes and rested his head again, the man could sense the frustration Sialeeds had been so careful to hide.
"... Eight years is a long time."
"It is."
Silence hung in the air, and Sialeeds found herself envying it. At least the silence could end, unlike this torturous situation. Holding on was wearing both of them down--Gizel more so than herself. All she could do was wait for him; no amount of effort on her part would free her from his deathgrip.
She stared down into the depths she had been hovering over for the last eight years. There was Arshtat, reading to her daughter. There was Ferid, proudly watching his son train. There was Gizel's entrance into Falenan politics, in the shadow of his father Marscal. There was Kyle, flirting with her over her favorite liquor.
They were flashes of her life from the past eight years. Moments of joy and love that she yearned to immerse herself in.
But here she was, forever hanging in Gizel's grasp.
"Why?"
She had asked him the same question several times in the past, but felt the need to ask again. "Why haven't you let go?"
Gizel was silent, as he was when she presented a question he did not want to answer. His patience, or some mad cousin of it, allowed him to maintain that silence. It had kept him safe for the last eight years, through icy conversations and formal gatherings that could not be avoided.
The eighth year, however, brought with it the tides of war. In the depths, Sialeeds could see the plot of the Godwins, slaughter of Falenans, the reemergence of Nether Gate--and her family, torn asunder. She could feel the end coming, and knew that time was running out.
It had never been about herself, really. Though she had spent the first four years snapping at Gizel to free her and leave her alone, she had known that this was not a matter of saving herself.
The one suffering was the one holding on, and it most certainly was not her.
The war was escalating with each passing week, and Sialeeds apprehensively looked to Gizel. He seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts, closed off to her as he had been for the last eight years. His smiles were practiced and polished, never reaching his eyes.
She glanced again at the depths as her nephew marched to take back the capital.
"It's not too late, Gizel. You can still let go."
Gizel's eyes opened, and she found herself gazing up at eyes burning with fervor. It was so unlike him that she had to stare. "Eight years and you still think I'll let you go. Unbelievable."
"Better to die unburdened than to die yearning."
There was a flicker of bitterness in his eyes--brief and almost unnoticeable. "Better to yearn than to fool yourself for eight years."
And as the ledge collapsed and they fell to their deaths, Sialeeds had to wonder who was holding onto who.