#campnano2015

[shamera]

CampNaNo part 6

Dare Disturb the Universe

that dumbly long fic about loads of different timelines and the entire canon of XIII-2 and even Lightning Returns leading back into a redo fic from the end of the first game. The one where Hope is more important than he gives himself credit for, even if no one will really tell him the details as of why.

For this chapter: Fang will relentlessly troll. Because she cares, of course. AKA start of the survival challenge chapter.

From the Beginning

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The next morning, it was Fang who showed up at his door bright and early. She even forewent the doorbell in order to just pound at his door until Hope forced himself out of bed and dragged his cold feet across the floor until he could let her in. “What took you so long?” She demanded, staying in the doorway so that Hope couldn’t move to close the door and stop the cold air from getting into the house and permeating the thin layer of his pajamas. “I stayed up late.” He told her groggily, and then cleared his throat at how thick his voice sounded. He glanced at the sun behind her and winced. From how bright it already was, it meant that his father had left for work already and hadn’t the heart to wake Hope. “...We were going over the interview last night.” “That’s what I heard.” Fang told him, and then reached to tug on one of the shorter strands of his hair, raising an eyebrow. “But I’ve got plans for you today, so you’ve got ten minutes to get yourself going. Go! Change, wash, eat, go do whatever it is you take your time doing in the mornings!” Her sudden urging startled Hope into complying, and he raced for the bathroom as he heard her laughing at the doorway. It took him stumbling around for nearly five minutes with a toothbrush in one hand and trying to tug on his pants with the other before he realized it would likely have been easier to do one task at a time rather than attempt to get everything done all at once, although from the sounds of it Fang was certainly finding his situation a hilarious one. Ten minutes later, he hadn’t managed to get breakfast, but instead dressed himself in a lighter version of his winter clothes, a light blue jacket zipped to the very top of his neck over his now normal shirt, yellow cardigan, and dark pants. He barely managed to quickly gulp down a glass of juice before hopping into his boots and turning to face a snickering Fang, was still leaning against his doorway. “Eight minutes. Not bad.” She conceded with a grin, before reaching into a pouch she had at her side and tossing him a small wrapped package, which Hope fumbled to catch. “Eat on the way.” Fang turned to leave as Hope unwrapped the package (which was mostly large dried leaves) to find Vanille’s breakfast recipe she used to make for everyone, mostly consisting of dried meats that had been re-tenderized and softened, cooked with local mushrooms and edible roots and then compacted with large, dried leaves. The aroma was a soft, subtle savory one that reminded him distinctively of Gran Pulse as a whole, and he wrapped the package up again quickly to run along after Fang, only stopping to close and lock the door behind himself. “Where are we going?” He asked, having to jog to catch up with her longer strides. It was only after he caught up again did he dare to start unwrap that package once more, using the leaves as a wrap so that he could eat while walking. “You’ve spent far too long cooped up in that tiny place of yours.” Fang responded, which didn’t answer his question at all. She didn’t look back as she went along. “Gotta see if you remember any of those lesson I tried to drill into your head a few months ago. Think you can still make it out in the wild?” “Of course.” Hope responded confidently, feeling himself stand up straighter. This, at least, was something he had familiarity with. And it was a far easier subject to think about rather than linger on the thought that the interview would be released to the public today, just a day before the famed trial was to happen. He had done his best in the past week to not pay any attention to media, but even then he could hear bits of conversation while walking down the streets about this trial. Too many people were talking about it, and he wasn’t confident enough to want to hear their opinion on it. The discomfort was almost familiar, in a way, because Hope had gotten used to withstanding the stares when he first came to attention in the Academy. He spent years ignoring it, trying not to listen to the whispers, and eventually… maybe he had gotten used to the different tone back in 400AF, because the atmosphere the past several days was far different than what he remembered. Hope had never been in the spotlight before he turned eighteen the last time around — both his father and Rygdea made sure of that. This time around, it was almost the same thing. It felt like they were still trying their best to clear the road for him and ensure that he wouldn’t encounter the weight of everyone’s ill will. They were still trying to do that, he knew, from the way they kept trying to prevent his appearance in the trial. Hope was determined the face the public if that was what he had to do, but… For today, it was comforting to slip back into the routine where Fang would laugh at his mistakes and then teach him the correct method of doing things… rather than dwell upon just how many people were currently gossiping about him and the trial in general. “You sure about that, little guy?” Fang quipped, sounding amused. “I may have a bit of a surprise for you, then. You think you’re up for a challenge?” “I know I am.” He told her between bites, glad now that Vanille had the foresight to make food for him and that Fang had brought it with her knowing he wouldn’t have time for breakfast. If this was anything like the previous times, then it would be most of the day before he could find something to eat again. “Good.” She told him, and it was easier to ignore the blatant stares while he was walking down the street with her, because at least then maybe no one would recognize her and some of that would rub off on him as well. Fang pointed a finger over to a building next to the edge of the settlement, close to the perimeter fences that had been set up more to let people know they were getting to the edge and that there would be danger beyond those buildings. Hope could see someone leaning against the buildings, bundled up just like he was and waiting with arms crossed. “Because we’re going to have a little competition between you two today.” Noel gave a small wave in greeting, and Hope suddenly didn’t feel so confident about the day anymore. — “I thought you were testing me.” Hope gasped out as the three of them made their way out into the wilderness, pushing aside dead and frozen over brambles in his way. He would have walked behind either Noel or Fang, except Fang specifically stated that they were all to make their own paths. Instead, she was the one walking leisurely in the path that Noel had already beaten down. “Test implies pass or fail. It can be about… how good I am at something! Like, if you give a seven out of ten, or whatever—” He paused a moment to break one of the smaller, but thicker, branches in front of him, “—you want to grade it on. You never said anything about one on one survival competition!” “Well, I’m say it now, then.” Fang continued to sound amused as the two made their way through the tense and untouched wilderness in front of them. “Think of it as a game: you guys will each get a different area, and Vanille and I will each watch one of you and judge if you do something that would kill, or disqualify, you. Your goal is to survive to the end and find a way to hunt down the other.” “Yeah, it’s that last bit I’m worried about.” Hope murmured darkly under his breath, taking a large step forward and then nearly falling as the ground gave way underneath him in a muddy trap that made him sink down nearly to the ankle. Mud? He thought the land would still be frozen over, but… well, it had been raining a lot more lately. Noel outright laughed at him. “Hey, you might have the advantage here! I don’t know anything about the plant and animal life around here. And you know the area, don’t you?” “You both have an advantage and disadvantage.” Fang informed them. “I already taught the kid what can and can’t kill him around him, and Noel has the hunting advantage.” “So basically, all he has to do is survive long enough to theoretically kill me.” Hope sniped back, entirely missing the way the other teen froze slightly at the statement. “Oh, yeah. This is going to be great.” “You told me you could make it.” Fang reminded him. “Not giving up before you start, are you?” “Absolutely not.” Hope said with far more confidence than he felt, and yanked his foot out of the mud. “And what, you’re going to let him get away with saying he’d win against you in a hunting competition?” Fang turned that question on Noel, who had the audacity to snort at that. “This kid’s a full head shorter than you, Noel.” “I will grow taller, you know!” Hope snapped, already irritated by the prospect of this competition and the landscape around them. (He could admit to himself that it was still better than dwelling on the idea of the interview, however.) “Yeah, but Hope knows how to think his way out of stuff.” Noel responded, not sounding too concerned. “He’s got a fair shot at this.” Hope wasn’t sure how to respond to that— whether he should be pleased or upset that Noel thought he had a chance, of that the other might not even think of him as a challenge at all. He continued along, listening as Fang laughed and agreed with Noel’s statement. That was fine, he thought. That just meant he would have to come up with a different way of winning, because there was no way he could go up against Noel like this in a one on one competition. He knew his own limits. He was far clumsier this young as well, and hadn’t yet figured out how to step quietly. It felt like most of what he learned physically as an adult had been negated due to gangly limbs and a body that sometimes just wouldn’t listen to him at all. It was a chore actually having to remind himself of little things like making sure not to slouch while sitting not to swing his legs in chairs because his feet didn’t quite touch the floor anymore. Those were all mannerisms he learned to deal with when he grew up, and the physical ticks hadn’t exactly carried over back to this age. He couldremember to do those things, but if he didn’t actively enforce it, then his physical body would go back to doing as he did before he remembered his adult life. Some times, that was the very worst thing of being this young again. As they cleared the bramble, Hope could see the brightly colored pink fabrics as Vanille waved at them from a clearing, looking as cheerful as she usually did and covered up with new furs on her boots and layers of bright material around her torso and limbs. There were gentle tinkling noises as she moved and the beads that were laced around the collar and sleeves of her outfit clinked together in time with her movements. “You’re here!” She greeted them happily, and changed her stance to put both hands on her hips and pout when Fang finally cleared the last of the wilderness as well. “Did you have to take the long way around? There’s a perfectly good path right here, you know!” There was? Hope looked in the direction where Vanille indicated and, sure enough, there was a nicely cleared foot trail through the area of dead shrubberies looking like it had been walked through by quite a few people. He turned back to give Fang a baleful look. “I’m just getting them used to what today’s going to be like.” Fang told her, looking entirely unrepentant. “You ready to be a guide?” “Yup!” Vanille agreed chipperly, already forgetting about Fang’s discretion. “How did you want to start this?” “That would depend on the boys.” Fang whistled at them, and Hope nearly sighed in despair at the idea of being treated like pets to be called for. “Alright kids, what will it be? You get to choose a direction to start. This is going to be the mid-point. Vanille and I both know the area well enough that we can lead you back here if you ever get lost, but that’s as much help as you’re getting from us. Slip on a dangerous surface, and you’re out of the running. Attempt to eat something poisonous, and you’re out of the running. Run into a creature you can’t defeat on your own… you’re bright enough to get the picture.” “We’ll be helping you if you really need the help.” Vanille added, looking excited. “So if I stop you from eating something, don’t eat it, okay? But that also means you’ll be declared ‘dead’ for the day!” “Run into monsters you can’t handle on your own, we’ll help you defeat it.” Fang agreed. “Still means you’re ‘dead’.” “How long is this going to go on for?” Noel asked them. “Until the sun sets!” Vanille answered happily, pointing up at the sky. “So you have a long while to go!” “Or until one of you is ‘dead’.” Fang added. “You’re not allowed to hunt each other until the sun reaches midway in the sky. Need to see if you can survive before if you can hunt down a predator. If you can’t do the former, there’s no use in doing the later.” Hope narrowed his eyes in thought. “I’ll go with Hope.” Vanille volunteered as Fang turned to her. “And contact you if something happens!” Hope eyed Noel, who only shrugged at that in confusion. Fang hummed thoughtfully before bringing a hand to her mouth and saying, “....No. That won’t do. Don’t think I don’t know you, missy. You’d just start giving him hints when you feel bad for him being at a disadvantage. No.” She paused, and nodded to herself. “I’ll go with the squirt. You go bond with newbie over there.” “Newbie?” Noel echoed, sounding a little offended. Hope just watched as Vanille pouted, and then turned to smile at Noel. “Oh, she doesn’t mean it in a bad way! We just haven’t fought together before, that’s all. I’m sure she won’t call you that once you guys actually go on a hunt together.” “I will keep calling you that.” Fang contradicted the younger girl. “—And I’m sure we’re going to get along just great.” Vanille continued as if the other hadn’t spoken, skipping over to link arms with a suddenly very nervous looking Noel who didn’t seem to know what to do with Vanille’s particular brand of physical affection. At least, Hope thought, Vanille was much gentler with her hugs than Alyssa ever was. “Looks like it’s going to be you and me, kid.” Fang told him, and Hope could only hmm quietly and nod in agreement as he laced his fingers in front of himself to think, unaware that he was rocking on the heels of his feet while he pondered just where to start the survival stint. “So… who’s ready to fight for first pick of locations?” “I can go second.” Noel spoke up, still looking vaguely embarrassed. “I can fight from anywhere.” “And you, Hope?” Fang turned her attention to him. Hope thought for a long moment, and eventually pointed down at the ground. “Here.” He said, and then nodded to reaffirm his choice. “I’ll stay in the middle of the field.” It must not have been what Fang was expecting, because she ended up snorting at him and reaching to lay a heavy hand on his head and pressing down hard enough that Hope felt he might sink down into the earth. “You sure about that?” She asked him, tone suddenly serious. He only nodded in response. “Alright!” Vanille exclaimed, and then turned to ask Noel, “So where would you go now that Hope’s basically taken home base?” “Pick a direction.” Noel said, and grinned at her. “Which way do you think will be easiest!” “No cheating, missy!” Fang called out in warning. Vanille pouted, and then reached out to grab at Noel’s wrist in a manner she tended to do for Hope as well, and the declared, “Fine! We’re just going to go…..” She spun in a circle, dragging Noel along with her, “This way!” As the two Pulsians disappeared into the thick forest again, Fang turned her attention back to Hope and dropped the mockingly cheerful demeanor, expression now as serious as he’d ever seen before. “So?” She asked him. “I’m guessing you have a plan, if you’re going to pick this spot.” Hope nodded slowly, and then amended that by tilting his head to the side and shrugging, unable to hide the uncertainty he felt. The center of the field would be a large strategical advantage when it came to gaining the lay of the land, but with the amount of experience that Noel had in fighting in all sorts of scenarios, that strategical advantage could easily be negated entirely, and that set up a string of disadvantages. Being in the center meant he had the weakest grasp of the situation. Had he chosen one side— any side, then Hope would have been able to put more distance between himself and Noel, therefore giving him a slight advantage in distance because it would at least take the other teen a longer time to get to him if Hope wanted to hole up in one area. It would have allowed for Hope to have a tighter command on the area around himself, and perhaps also find a place to hide. The center, where Vanille had been waiting for them, was entirely barron. Flat. Devoid of hiding spots, and easily spotted from a ways away. Where as someone could look for the center from any direction, the only way Hope would be able to look to would be the one slightly downtrodden path. An attack on the center could come from any direction outside of that one, and Hope wouldn’t be able to see it coming. Especially since he knew for a fact that Noel could be just as silent a hunter as Fang and Lightning. ...It really didn’t seem fair. Or maybe, he tried to think optimistically, it really wasn’t fair for Noel. Hope did have the home field advantage in this scenario despite not really knowing the area surrounding him. While Hope wasn't an expert of Gran Pulse, definitely nowhere near what Fang and Vanille knew, he had lived on this world for over a decade in the previous timeline. He had been taught on and off by Fang regarding survival on this planet in a hostile situation for months now, coupled with academic knowledge of changing landscape. Granted, it would be nothing compared to Noel's intuitive knowledge of fighting and hunting, and the fact that the other teen had been born and raised on Gran Pulse (but Hope was assuming that the Pulse Noel came from must have been different than the Pulse of now). Assuming that both of them survived the first portion of the competition (which was really a no-brainer-- Hope knew enough by now that there was no way he'd fail that, and Noel could just hunt animals if he couldn't identify the plant life), Hope would be at an overwhelming disadvantage. He really only had one thing going for him: that Noel didn't seem to be taking this competition seriously, possibly because the older teen also acknowledged the overwhelming difference between them in this subject. But that didn't mean Noel was going to let his guard down. "Okay." He told Fang brightly, watching as the woman blinked at his sudden change in attitude. "Should we start with the survival test, then?"

[shamera]

CampNaNo part 5

Dare Disturb the Universe

the transition chapter before the trial when the changes between the new timeline and the old ones are really starting to become transparent. Hope’s starting to notice things he hadn’t noticed the first time around, and the changes are disturbing to say the least.

From the Beginning And after that! Last time On

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It took him another two days before Hope realized just what Lightning and Snow had been talking about before their conversation turned to… other things. “Adamanchelids?” He echoed dumbly as he pushed aside the lunch the Rygdea had forced upon him. “You guys are trying to take downAdamanchelids?” “That those big turtles?” The soldier asked between full bites of his food, before waving a fork around in Hope’s direction, “then yeah. Those big turtles. We’re moving around the junior versions of them.” “Adamanchelids are the junior versions.” Hope told him dryly, completely ignoring the man’s attempts to push the lunch back toward him. “You don’t have to fight them, you know. They don’t attack unless you attack them first!” “Those things are scaring people.” Rygdea tried to explain. “They walk by— the ground shakes! They’re heading this way, and we can’t afford to find out whether or not they’re going to freak out over a human settlement. It’s not that I’m trying to pick a fight, but if we just run away, then people will— will you just eat your food?” “No.” Hope answered simply, causing the older man to make some pathetic exasperated noises. Not that it mattered in the least, because there was no way anyone was going to make him actually put steamed Triffids into his mouth, they were absolutely disgusting. “How old are you, eight?” The man asked irritably, pointing accusingly at Hope with a fork. Hope didn’t rise to the bait. “It would be a— a dumb fight! They’re really hard to take down, and if you even try to take on an Adamanchelid, then there’s a good chance of something even bigger coming along to hurt you for it. Like you said— they’re the junior ones.” “You know what?” Rygdea asked, finally sighing and putting down his utensil. “You’re sounding a lot like Snow right now. Is that what you wanted to hear? You’re just like a miniature Snow, trying to tell me what not to do and all—” Hope glared. “—or more like Sergeant Farron, actually. What do you do, practice glaring like her?” “Maybe I do it just to annoy you.” Hope told him, and Rygdea laughed. “I’d believe it, too! But we weren’t supposed to be talking about those Pulse— I know, I know, Gran Pulse, no need to correct me— giant turtles of doom. I had two goals here: get you to eat your lunch, and talk to you about the trial.” Hope very deliberately ignored the lunch that Rydgea had brought claiming it was one of the healthiest fads recently since Triffids were apparently one of the most nutritious foods not bundled into a pack together by the fal’Cie. Hope had forgotten all about those first two years before the people of Cocoon learned to actually create their own diets, so dependant on fal’Cie generated foods that they turned to scientists to ensure they would get all their necessary vitamins and nutrition from the now unprocessed foods they were consuming. It had taken a lot of experimentation and adjustment of taste for people to acclimate themselves to the much bolder spices and tastes of Gran Pulse. Triffids were, apparently, one of the steps getting there. Triffids were also something Hope was determined to skip over. “You should just leave the Adamanchelids alone.” He very deliberately drove the subject back toward where he wanted it to go. Rygdea threw up his hands in surrender. “You think I have some magical power to change people’s minds? It’s not up to me. Even if I can get a few people to listen, I can’t get everyone to listen. You are going to be scared and antagonistic until it’s at least been tried, alright? You can’t get kids to understand why scraping their knees hurt until they actually do, and you can’t tell people to just sit still and play it safe and expect them to listen! If we can take down an Adamanchelid, then we can prove that the Guardian Corps can keep everyone safe. If we can’t… then, well, we’ll just run like hell in the opposite direction and learn from our mistakes. “I don’t see how you expect me to be able to change anything when I can’t seem to even get you to eat your own lunch!” “It’s disgusting, it’s not as healthy for you as everyone wants to think, and it has the consistency of slime when you boil it.” Hope summarized. “In short, Triffids are to be planted and not eaten. Planted and left alone, because guess what, on Gran Pulse Triffids will attack you as well.” “Kid, I have been heading these expeditions to clear out monsters for months. Ever since the day we landed on this world. I know what I’m doing, and you know what? Triffids are delicious. It says so on all the holovid shows, it’s back by professional cooks, and I’m going to say—” Rygdea picked up his fork again to spear a large forkful of the slimy flowers and stuffed them into his mouth confidently before his expression grew more pained, “—that they’re just as delicious as everyone says.” “You look like you’re about to cry.” Hope informed him. “Your eyes are red.” “It’s just a bit more spice than I’m used to, that all.” “No, it’s not.” Hope continued to call him out, taking a vicious glee in his retribution. It served the man right for trying to feed him that trash. “It’s completely bland, and slimy. See? It tastes horrible, doesn’t it?” Rygdea appeared to give up the pretense after a long moment, grimacing and moving to grab at his water before chugging his drink down in attempts to rid himself of the taste. Hope just waited triumphantly. “...You’re a brat, you know that?” The soldier said after a long moment of scraping his tongue on the back of his teeth. “Forget what I said about you being like some miniature adult before.” Hope just rolled his eyes, and then continued on his previous conversation. “If you’re going to take on the Adamanchelids, you should at least take Light with you. Maybe Snow.” And me, he bit back the childish pout at being left out of things. He should be used to that by now. “They’ve fought them before, and they’re still alive.” “If I could just send the two of them, I would.” Rygdea agreed, but then seemed to retract his statement. “That is, if I could send the two of them! Neither of them are officially enlisted, and I’ve already pulled enough strings to get them involved in the kidnapping case. Right now, the two of them are still considered civilians and I’m not sure how much you know about this, Hope, but I need actual enlisted soldiers who are both well trained and used to actually following orders to go on this mission. They want to nag at my men about how they can’t take down Pulsian monsters? Sure. Do it from the safety of their own homes. Unless they decide to officially join up with the Guardian Corps— again, for the case of Miss Farron— then I don’t have as much say in this as you think I do, Hope.” “You have a lot more sway than you think you do.” Hope grumbled under his breath as he pushed aside the container that was supposed to hold his (rejected) lunch. “What was that?” The soldier demanded, having definitely heard him. “What if the Adamanchelids weren’t too close to the settlements?” Hope asked instead, wondering what kind of solution could be found in this explosive situation. “How much space do we actually need, anyway? Gran Pulse is a big place!” “For those things? A lot of space. If people can see them, they’re far too close. And yes, I know exactly how big they are. Look, they can be miles from us and they’d still be too close. You can’t claim that people won’t freak out knowing those things are around this time around, kiddo. If nothing else, everyone still remembers what happened in Eden. No one wants to see monsters roaming the streets like that again, and I can’t help but sympathize there. As it is, I’m surprised there isn’t more outrage that those things exist in the first place. You of all people should know the lengths a mob will go to when they think they’re under threat.” “I also know that they don’t have to be scared of them.” Hope said, and watched as the soldier only nodded in agreement without a real response. “And that the fear could be negated if they had only known they didn’t have to be afraid in the first place.” Rygdea winced, and set down his own fork. “...This isn’t like the l’Cie incident.” Was it just an ‘incident’ now? The thread of bitter was pushed aside to be examined later even as Hope shrugged, dismissing his personal objections to the phrasing. “Yeah. It’s not. But it’s still something that we can learn from, or should have learned from. The— what happened in Eden was terrible, but letting that fear rule is isn’t going to help.” “Hey, you don’t have to tell me that, kid.” Rygdea agreed. “I complete agree with you. I’m just saying— politics makes things complicated. The people want to feel safe, and therefore they want the monsters as far away as possible, or wiped out if we could manage it, and there’s not much I can say or do about that. I’m just a soldier, you know. I follow orders.” Hope looked down, brows furrowing in thought. That was right. Despite Rygdea’s promotion and the people who assumed the man would make a good Primarch since he had been the one who disposed of the previous Primarch… Rygdea had yet to accept that power and responsibility. From Hope’s memories, the man had very reluctantly taken tiny bits of power as it was thrust upon him, but his full induction to politics had been a slow thing met with much resistance from the man himself. Eventually, Rygdea would make a great leader complimenting the Academy’s rise to power and the peaceful negotiation between the scientists and soldiers until a compromise could be created where they became one entirely new system of government. How had things gone the first time around? Back then, Hope hadn’t been as caught up with politics as he was now. He had been in a daze then, still grieving the loss of not only his mother but the millions of people who died in the Fall, and in the loss of Fang, Vanille, and Lightning. He hadn’t found anyone to talk to then, bottling up his own emotions in hopes that they would eventually fade enough for him to confront without as much pain as he had been in then. Snow had been there, but… Hope had stayed away. He stayed away from Sazh and Dajh back then as well, figuring that all of them just wanted some time with the ones they loved the most. He had assumed back then that perhaps the next time he saw them would be at Snow and Serah’s wedding, yet that wedding happened due to Lightning’s absence, and then… And then Sazh and Dajh just— disappeared. Soon enough, Snow went on a journey and disappeared along with them. Hope had never been given clear answers about that. He mostly focused on his studies until Serah disappeared as well and Team NORA contacted him about the possibility of her traveling through time looking for Lightning. It was then that Hope changed course in his studies rather than floundering through subject after subject trying to learn just a little bit of everything. When the Oracle Drive was first activated, Hope had been there and that had been the last straw in his decision to study up on time paradoxes. It had been difficult— how could anyone identify a time paradox if they didn’t know what was wrong with their own history? But then he felt the weight of a responsibility he didn’t understand; a sense of something missing, a part that he had to play in order to be useful to the others. “There’s no ‘just’ anyone.” Hope said stubbornly, and looked up again to see Rygdea looking away, the man scratching at the scruff of his beard in thought— or perhaps just unable to face Hope with that last statement. “I mean…. I’m ‘just’ some kid, right? If that’s the case, then Light’s ‘just’ another soldier as well, and Snow’s ‘just’ some civilian that might happen to run into your troops. If that’s what you want, you can put it down as that. But let them go, too. It has to frustrate them that the Guardian Corps is just getting themselves into unnecessary trouble, and it has to trouble you as well that they’re not allowed to help. You know they’d be a huge help. “You’re ‘just’ as soldier as much as I’m ‘just’ a kid.” “What do you want me to say?” The man asked instead with a defeated shrug. “Yeah, okay, I could let them come along again. It’d be good to get help from two people actually experienced with fighting those monsters. But I don’t have the power to call off the mission, Hope. And before you say you want to come with— yeah, I know what kids your age always say— you’re not allowed. Besides, it’s the day of your dad’s Paddra expedition, and I’m pretty sure you already signed up for that.” Hope straightened at that. “On that day?” “That very day.” Rygdea confirmed. “What, you think I plan around your schedule?” “No, it’s not that.” Hope said, and slouched back into his seat again. Now he could remember, especially since he had seen the date on his father’s schedule for the trip in the first place. The first time around, the news had transmitted non-stop about the militia who died bravely defending the citizens from the dangers of Pulse. Hope had only briefly remembered that when he first saw the date, thinking nothing more of it because that was in no way related to the new Paddra expedition in any way. Now, he wondered if Snow had agonized over that the first time around, arguing tirelessly with the soldiers who refused to back down from an enemy too powerful to take on for a cause that was worth so little. Was that the expedition that Rygdea hoped to undertake…? Now he was starting to understand the frustration and pain he heard in Snow’s voice before. “Look, don’t look so worried about it.” The older man reassured him, even reaching over to ruffle Hope’s shortened hair. Rygdea grinned, and pointed a thumb at himself. “I’ve got this. Nothing bad’s going to happen that day, yeah? So let’s just drop it for the moment and focus on something more immediate, like that pesky little trial everyone’s been talking about…” Hope very reluctantly let the topic go, but reminded himself that it would be another thing that he would work on changing. After all, everything was already changing so much. . . “It doesn’t seem right.” Hope grumbled as he sat with his father to listen to the audio interviews. The packet would be released to the public the next day, and Rygdea had sent them the interview ahead of time so that Hope could prepare himself for exactly what everyone would be able to hear. As such, both he and his father had sat down that evening to listen to it, the atmosphere tense as Hope heard himself recounting once more just what happened the day he was kidnapped, how he got out (excluding a few details like his magic and just how Noel had found him, which, luckily, made Noel sound more like a good samaritan who just happened to pass by during a hunting trip), and then the questions regarding what led up to the Purge and his journey as a l’Cie afterward. Hope couldn’t tell what his father was thinking, as Bartholomew’s expression had been blank the entire interview. “And what doesn’t seem right?” His father asked patiently. “This makes me sound—” He clenched his hands tightly into fists, and then held his breath for a few seconds as if holding as his tension inside his body, before releasing a loud sigh and consciously flexing his fingers again. “—like a child. A victim.” He wasn’t that. He knew better, could do better. He learned from all those experiences and there was no way he was as weak and in need of help as the interview made him sound. While the session was unedited to allow the most impact, it had just been the way the questions had been phrased and the progression of questions in general. It didn’t sit right with him that the interviewer made him out to be so… ...Helpless. He could understand it, at some point. Like Rygdea had said, him being so young meant that it was the perfect ploy to gain sympathy. They would tell the truth a little at a time, starting with the people that the public was most likely going to sympathize with. But the manner of which the interview was conducted felt like a lie. “Hope.” And here, Bartholomew finally looked… tired. The man took off his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, furrowing his brows as if combating a headache. His father looked so tired in that one moment, with the two of them sitting together at that tiny kitchen table resting their elbows on the countertop (mom would have snapped at them to keep their body parts off the table), that Hope couldn’t help but feel guilty. If it hadn’t been for him… “Sometimes,” his father continued after a long moment of silence, “I don’t think you realize that you are still a child. And that the things that happened to you shouldn’t have happened to anybody, regardless of how mature you think you are.” “But it happened,” Hope rationalized. “And I’m fine. This makes it sound like— like I might have been damaged or something.” He stopped short when he felt the weight of Bartholomew’s gaze on him; studying him. “Weren’t you?” His father asked, voice calm. “A lot of people were left damaged. Our lives will never be the same again. What happened literally brought down our whole world.” “Not in the way this interview makes it sound like.” Hope insisted. He had been changed, that was undeniable. Everyone had been, although he preferred not to think of the changes as damage so much as a chance to mature. People had to grow up at some point, even the sheltered citizens of Cocoon. He knew what they would become in ten, thirteen, years… knew what they would become in four hundred years, and what he saw in that future hadn’t been damage— it had been progress. It had been awe and an openness he had never before encountered on Cocoon. Hardships brought turmoil and pain, but it was nothing something he wanted to translate as negative when Hope knew all the positive effects hardships could bring. Yes, things were terrible in the interim. Yes, there were times when even he preferred that the Purge hadn’t happened and that the fal’Cie had never chosen him for the task of bringing down Cocoon. He would have traded the beautiful and accepting future for another day in the blissfully ignorant past where he could just be… childishly happy again. But those moments were human, and that didn’t equate him as weak, or that he thought the changes incurred by the Fall to be filled with nothing but awfulness. Perhaps his viewpoint was skewed, and it was something he was sure never to bring up verbally, because Hope could still understand how close to the tragedy they still were. He understood that the pain never went away, he truly did, but… From that pain would come a future. A better future. He wasn’t ashamed of his past except for the moments in the dead of night when he would wake from yet another nightmare, but… The way the interview made him sound was… It wasn’t like someone who surpassed a turning point in his life, like he saw of himself. The interview made him out to sound like a scared child who needed to be protected. Who was, as loathe as he was to admit, unprepared for the world and who had been damaged by the journey and was now in need for assistance in order to once again lead a normal life. It was aggravating. “Hope,” Bartholomew said. “When was the last time you voluntarily spoke with someone your age? Have you spoken to Kai or Elida since what happened in Bodhum? I wanted you to go back to school at first because I thought it would make things… normal again somehow. Allow you to make friends and learn like you used to. When that didn’t happen, I was distracted by other concerns.” He didn’t have to point out what those other concerns were: between Hope’s accident and subsequent head trauma, which in turn led to a flood of memories he wasn’t supposed to have and along with that knowledge he wasn’t supposed to have… and then the kidnapping; Bartholomew had every right to be distracted from his son’s ‘normal life’ when there was already that many other things going on, alongside all the events that must have been plaguing him from his work. He wondered if it was a terrible idea to just tell his father about everything that happened. Surely… surely his dad would believe him. Bartholomew believed all the l’Cie things, and had supported him throughout his entire life. He hadn’t questioned anything when Hope insisted on studying into time paradoxes the first time around, and… He would. Eventually. It was just, with the interview being released the next day, and the trial the day after… it just didn’t seem like the right time. “I spoke to Ms. Wingspur,” His father put his glasses back on, blinking to adjust his vision again. “Or perhaps I should say, she spoke to me. She had various concerns she wanted to address after conducting the interview, and brought up various questions I never thought to ask.” The psychiatrist. She shouldn’t have been allowed to talk to his father about— no. His interview was going to be released to the public, and there was no point in keeping her concerns to herself, whatever concerns she might have. “I know things are weird.” Hope admitted, because there was no way around that. He wasn’t about to actively lie to his father, even if he had to keep things from the man at the moment. “And… I want to tell you about it. I really do. I guess I just don’t know how to yet.” “I understand that. That is what Ms. Wingspur has determined as well from her interview of you. And that’s why I would like you to speak with her instead for whatever you feel you can not tell me about.” “What?” That hadn’t been what Hope expected, and he couldn’t help but gape at his father in disbelief. “A part of it is my fault, and I apologize. I had hoped to... “ Bartholomew let out a breath, leaning his elbows on the table. “You won’t be the only one. She shared a concern with me regarding the public mental state and why this trial was happening in the first place. I’m writing up a proposal for Martha to prioritize the people’s mental health within the next year. We’ve been so busy building new homes and physically providing for the people that very little has been done so far to stop and take stock of our mental and emotional health. We’ve barely just finished cataloguing all the survivors mere weeks ago. This should not be acceptable. We’re sending out the remainders of Psicom and Guardian Corps troops in order to clear out land and keep our people safe from monsters, but we never considered monsters within our own community; within our own minds.” Hope stayed quiet. Something like that had been attempted the first time around, although he heard very little of it that time because it just hadn’t passed. The community was grieving and there were already many people voluntarily seeking emotional help, and no real disturbances for an edict to pass. “I’d like you to talk to Ms. Wingspur more as well.” Bartholomew quirked a smile and continued, “Yes, I know you don’t like it. You don’t need to make that face at me.” “I’m not making a face.” Hope insisted. “You are. I won’t ask why you don’t like her— I’m sure she’ll get it out of you herself. And I understand that you’re—” There was a pause. “—Busy. I’ve asked for your help often the past few weeks, and there must have been more people than I’m aware of who requested your presence. But this would only be one more. She’d like to see you twice a week, for an hour each session.” This time Hope knew he was grimacing. “I don’t need a psychiatrist.” “She comes with high recommendations.” Bartholomew continued, as if Hope hadn’t interrupted him. “This isn’t a punishment, Hope. She’s taking time out of a very busy schedule— and on her recommendation, I will also be taking two hours a week to a colleague of hers.” “What? Why? Aren’t you too busy for that?” There was genuine surprise, especially considering how Bartholomew was already balancing his time almost down to the minute so that he could get the maximum amount of work done and spend as much time with his son as possible. Hope had made many concessions through the years (the first time around), and now knew how to help his father through various cups of coffee or tea at times, and just taking the time to help out at the makeshift office so that his father wouldn’t have to be two places at once. “I am.” His father agreed pleasantly. “But your words convinced me it was something I needed to do.” “My words?” Hope echoed, drawing back slightly and furrowing his brows. “...You mean my interview.” “Not just that. You went through a lot, and you will continue to go through more challenges later on. Anyone would have faltered if they were in your place—” What a strange thing to say, Hope thought vaguely around his father’s words, considering that he traveled with five others who hadn’t faltered at all. “And it wasn’t just your journey and what you’ve been through.” Bartholomew paused for a moment, looking uncertain as he closed his eyes to gather his thoughts. “What you just said to me confirmed it.” “What?” Hope thought back. “That there are things I haven’t told you yet? I know that sounds bad, but—” His father held up a hand. “Not that. That much I already know. What I want you to take away from your sessions with her is that it’s okay to acknowledge being hurt. You’re doing so much better than almost everyone here, Hope, and I understand that. You’ve always been strong, just like your mother. No, don’t deny it— you could be right in that you aren’t damaged. But… I may be. And I’m sure that a lot of other people are. From the Purge, from the Fall, and everything that might have happened to them after that. “I might be wrong. But I would rather take the chance of being wrong, than allow my own negligence to cause you further harm. Talk to Ms. Wingspur. Let her help.” Hope could have protested. He felt like he should have, because that would mean another large change in the timeline for him, because he had never met Miss Wingspur before that day she interviewed him so how could he truly trust her enough to tell her things that he might not want anyone else to hear? How could he answer the personal questions she would inevitably ask him, or stand the silence and judging if he didn’t answer her? Pick your battles wisely, Lightning had once told him while the two of them had first gotten to the Gapra Whitewood. Back then, she had fed him a continuous stream of advice on how to stay alive, and Hope could remember her words vividly. Don’t run into every battle you can find. That will only tire you out, and when the time comes to truly fight for your life, you won’t have the energy to win. Walk away if it isn’t worth your time and energy. “...Okay.” Hope finally relented, and watched as his father looked up in surprise. “If it means that much to you.” He could pick and choose his battles. Upsetting his father over this wasn’t worth it, not when there was already enough on his dad’s plate. “Thank you.” His father said, and Hope just shrugged and looked away in embarrassment. “...I’ll go.” He said, “But I can’t promise I’ll actually talk to her. She’s—” He frowned, trying to figure out why he couldn’t seem to find himself to like the cheerful, if overbearing, lady. “How do you even really know if you can trust her?” “You don’t.” His father responded, and smiled at him, moving to get up from the table. “Perhaps that’s what you learn if you actually speak with her. She agreed to handle your interview and did a good job, didn’t she?” “...I guess.” Hope relented, and his father reached over to grip his shoulder tightly for a moment before letting go. “Don’t worry.” Bartholomew told him. “I think your interview went just fine. And remember— if you don’t want to go to the trial, you don’t have to. You can say no at any time.” That would be the second argument that day Hope would need to win back in the future. For right now, he would pick and chose his battles to ensure he would win the important struggles: the ones that would decide how the future changed.

[shamera]

CampNaNo part 4

Dare Disturb the Universe (anyone sick of me yet?)

aka the time travel redo story where no one dies except everyone who did in canon but that’s okay because we’re redoing the timeline anyway and bringing them back even if that doesn’t negate their deaths at all. Narrated by Hope. Who happened to die plenty of times. Who in this current part is sick of people not telling him things. 

From the Beginning  Last time On

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“—they won’t listen. What exactly do you think I can do about that?” Lightning’s peeved tone drew Hope to a halt as he stopped in his steps and turned his head toward the doorway where Snow was pacing the room and Lightning leaned against a wall with her arms crossed. It was late enough that the sun was already setting and the the shadows were reaching through the room before the lights needed to be turned on, and there was something strangely nostalgic at the sight of the two of them brooding in a room like that at dusk while the trees and ground were bare outside through the windows. “They’re going to march straight to their own deaths at this rate.” Snow ranted, footfalls heavy as he paced the room. Lightning didn’t so much as acknowledge his words, although she didn’t have to. “There’s more than enough land for all of us!” “Tell that to the people still too scared to leave Cocoon.” Lightning scoffed, and then sighed before unfolding her arms. “As far as everyone are concerned, all creatures down here are monsters in need of extermination.” Hope pressed a gloved hand against the wall and then slowly backed against it until his vision of the two was cut off. What were they talking about? “Then they need to stop looking for trouble!” Snow exclaimed hotly before he stopped in his steps and Hope heard an explosive exhale of breath. “Sorry. I had to deal with this once already, and it didn’t end well.” “We’re all going through this a second time.” Lightning replied, much calmer now. They were quiet for a few moments, and Hope shifted his weight against the wall. “...We’ll change it this time.” “Will we?” Snow’s tone was darker than what Hope could remember from the man. “Can we? I don’t know much about changing the future, but I know it’s had drastic consequences before.” “That won’t happen this time.” Lightning interjected, cutting him off. “Serah’s not involved in this anymore.” Serah? Hope mouthed, surprised. What did Serah have to do with…? Well, he still wasn’t sure what they were talking about yet, but now he was starting to feel vaguely guilty about listening in. “How do you know that for sure?” “Because I know. Move on, Snow.” Another long moment of silence, and then a thump as Snow dropped himself into the old squeaky couch, making Hope wince at the resulting sound. “...I’ll take you on your word for it.” The man sounded so tired, and Hope wondered just what happened— what had he missed? He couldn’t remember a time when Snow sounded that tired at all, not even during their time as l’Cie and the man had discovered that their purpose hadn’t been to save Cocoon. “If we’re allowed to change things, it still doesn’t mean that we can.” “Oh?” There was a scoff. “And what happened to doing the impossible?” “Yeah, well. There’s only so many miracles one person can deliver at a time.” There was a pause. “You’re an idiot.” A thunking noise and then a startled and somewhat painful yelp from Snow, before Lightning continued. “You’re not doing this by yourself. I shouldn’t have to remind you, hero.” “...Heh. Yeah, yeah. We’ve got the whole gang here. I’m still not used to it, I guess… been on my own for a long while now.” “That was your choice.” “You think so? You don’t think I tried to keep everyone together after Hope—” “Stop.” Lightning ordered, a sharpness in her tone that could cut through the air. “Not right now.” “Yeah? Then when? You won’t talk about it. I can’t talk about it. Not to Serah. Not to Sazh. And definitely not to Noel. How am I supposed to look my wife in the eyes and lie if she asks about the timeline I come from? You’re the one who said not to reveal any information, and you’re just— “ A shadow fell over Hope and he tensed, already knowing who it was. “Hope.” Lightning’s voice was flat and entirely unimpressed, and he couldn’t remember the last time she sounded so disappointed in him. Nor could he figure out how he hadn’t heard her footsteps cross the room at all. He looked up guiltily to see her glaring down at him with her arms crossed. She didn’t say anything more, although Hope imagined that he probably looked as guilty as he felt. It was almost hard in that moment to remember that he was actually an adult. “...Hi.” He finally responded after a long moment, eyes as wide as they would go. She didn’t seem to buy into the innocence act. “I was just coming to get you guys because Serah wanted to know how long we were staying…?” Lightning didn’t respond, nor did her expression change in the slightest, but it was Snow who popped his head out from around the doorframe, the earlier frustration and gloom almost entirely gone as the man grinned at him like nothing was wrong. “Did she want to go?” The blond asked, as if the previous conversation Hope had just overheard hadn’t happened at all. “I thought she wanted to stay for dinner as well.” It made Hope shiver, to realize that Snow’s normally nonchalant attitude might not actually be so… calm, after all. He always assumed… But then again, things changed. And he didn’t know what Snow had gone through. He didn’t know what any of them had gone through. “I— um.” He twisted gloved fingers together and snapped his mouth shut. Lightning’s stare was intense, and felt like pinpricks on his skin. “I told dad I’d make it home for dinner, and she said the Cie’th stones were a bit far of a walk if it got too dark…” It was embarrassing to admit. The kids had already returned back home, and Dajh had settled down for a rare nap, wiped out by the amount of energy expended during the day and possibly the amount he consumed as well. He was more than willing to set out on his own, perhaps after a goodbye to everyone else, but… It was just the way both Serah and Noel tensed when he said that. Another reminder to the things they had seen that he had not. “That’s a good point.” Snow agreed amiably. “Who’s staying with you this week? You’ve still got that apartment below you that’s empty, right?” “No one.” Hope said, and then took a breath. “I don’t need anyone else to stay there with me. Rygdea has the Guardian Corps patrolling the streets at all hours now, and—” “How much did you hear?” Lightning interjected, clearly having enough of their faux nonchalant banter. Hope attempted to back up a step, uncertain in the face of Lightning’s disapproval, only to remember that he already had his back pressed against the wall and was making himself look more guilty with those actions. “...You said something about people not listening to you. I didn’t hear all that much. I just thought you guys would want to— talk it out first.” Technically, it was the complete truth. He was just leaving out the secondary reasoning about how he wanted to know what was going on as well. Lightning narrowed her eyes, and then turned her attention to Snow. “You and Serah can stay for dinner. I’ll take Hope back home.” The man paused, and then asked hesitantly, “You sure, Sis?” She didn’t respond, and Snow turned to give Hope a apologetic shrug before he grinned again and raised a hand to the back of his head, scratching at the skin of his neck. “Well, why not. I’ve been meaning to have a talk with Vanille, anyway. Haven’t managed to get to her all day, ever since she started playing with those kids…” Hope didn’t think he would have a say in that, and there was a brief surge of irritation he quickly pushed down again at that, along with the rebellious thoughts about how he was an adult and didn’t need to be treated like a child… or lied to, for that matter. That he didn’t want to experience the same anger he had gone through when he first realized everyone had been hiding information from him. Snow stepped around them delicately as he passed the hallway; a surprising maneuver for a man of his size, and then hurried along his way without giving a single look back. Traitor, Hope thought darkly before he reluctantly rescinded that. If Lightning had been giving such a look to Snow… well, he would have stayed out of the way as well. Lightning didn’t say much, although she waited long enough for Hope to grab his jacket and scarf before they stepped outside again, not even having said goodbye to the others. It was more than likely that Snow would have explained the situation to them anyway, likely using the words ‘Hope’s in huge trouble with Sis’ so that the others wouldn’t even have to question it. Vanille had been right, and it really was passing the end of winter in New Bodhum. The skies were entirely clear, unlike back in the settlements where clouds had taken up an semi-permanent residence above them for the chance of rain at any time. There was still a chill on his exposed skin and Hope could see his breath with every puff of air, and he breathed against his gloved hands as he watched Lightning walk ahead of him warily. The sand crunched beneath his boots like the snow had, but Lightning’s footfalls were near silent especially compared to his own. Hope found himself falling behind after a few steps and had to increase his stride and jog slightly just to catch up to her again. As they passed the hastily built town border and started heading out into the darkness away from the shining lights from houses, she still hadn’t said anything. His stomach felt twisted into knots, and it was Hope who finally broke the silence, unable to stand the dread of being in Lightning’s disregard. Had he just gotten too used to the idea that he could do no wrong in her eyes? “...Light?” He asked hesitantly, wringing his hands together even as they stepped over the rocks that separated the area of New Bodhum from the wilderness of Gran Pulse. “I didn’t mean to listen in. I just—” He trailed off, unable to continue on that vein. He had meant to listen in. All these months, and he hadn’t managed to get any significant information out of any of them. It was like if everyone pretended things were normal, they would all just be able to forget about the futures they had experienced. But it didn’t work that way! Hope wanted to yell at times, the urge only circumvented by an older sense of wisdom that tantrums would no one any good. It was easier to bear it and wait, and if there was anything he was really good at, Hope was good at waiting. Lightning’s footsteps slowed in front of him, and he almost wondered if she was ready to turn and yell at him now for eavesdropping, because she thought better of him than that, because he had thought better of himself than that. He tensed, waiting for the anger to be directed his way, and wondered if he himself would react to it with the calm acceptance of an adult used to diffusing difficult situations, or whether that surge of teenage anger would take over last second and have him responding in kind. He wondered if it would do them any good to just— be mad at each other and lay it all out. What was he mad about? Everything, was the answer that surprised him. That she kept so many secrets from him, that she made the others keep so many secrets. Wouldn’t it be better if everyone shared their stories? Shared their pain? Why was he not allowed to know? Why weren’t any of them allowed to know? “I asked you before,” Lightning spoke, and she turned around to face him in the darkness, only her silhouette illuminated by the light of Cocoon. “If you would listen to me if I told you not investigate this.” “I would.” He didn’t remember his response to her exactly, but it might have been in that affirmative. He couldn’t imagine otherwise. “But I’d want to know why.” He could trust her blindly. It would be so easy. Hope had done that from time to time, especially during those first few days as a l’Cie, because he needed to trust in her, and she had never let him down. Lightning had always been his true North in such matters. If a traveler was lost, and could only find his sense of direction from the night sky, that traveler would never question the position of the stars. As a child, Hope was the same way. ...But it wasn’t just that child anymore. He trusted Lightning implicitly, there was no doubt about it. Hope wasn’t just a child who needed the support of adults around him any more— he was an adult as well. He needed to question things, needed to know why and how, because otherwise no one else would dare to ask and no one would ever get anywhere. That’s what he learned in those years he had grown up with no one but his father and Rygdea to rely upon. If he didn’t question it… then people just wouldn’t. There weren’t very many voices who dared to speak and question things that were already established, like the position of stars in the sky. “I don’t think that being ignorant is going to help anyone in the long run.” He admitted, linking his fingers in front of himself nervously. It was one thing to understand that he needed to question everything, but to actually do it… “But I know you must have a good reason to keep— to keep Snow from telling everyone else what he knows.” And perhaps what she knew as well. She had never said anything to him about not speaking of his own experiences, but Hope knew that hardship of staying quiet already even without the ban. “I want to know what happened. I think Serah would want to know what happened, too. She was upset that time, when I first told her I knew something was going on. She was upset when she couldn’t talk about Noel to anyone. And I think… I think Snow’s upset about the same time. He might need to talk to someone, and even if he doesn’t talk to me or Serah about this, I know he wants to talk to you—” She raised a hand, and Hope fell silent, unsure of whether his bumbling words managed to convey the meaning he wanted. I don’t think keeping silent is good for you, either. They continued walking in the fading chill of the winter air, Hope working extra hard to keep his footsteps as stable as possible even if he couldn’t see where he was going sometimes. “You’re right.” Lightning finally admitted quietly once they reached the plains where the group of Cie’th stones were, her steps slowing to fall in line with him rather than walking in front of him. “I do have a good reason.” Oh. Of course she did. He said that himself, hadn’t he? Hope didn’t understand why he felt such a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, because of course Lightning had a good reason not to tell anyone about the different futures. What if by saying something, it would— validate or negate their existence? He didn’t know what he was thinking anymore, of course it wouldn’t be something like that… But either way, the reason must have been important for her to uphold the silence for so long. It meant that he would have to continue and wade through the dark, blank as to what happened… “But it might be a very selfish reason.” Lightning continued softly, her voice barely louder than a whisper. Hope stopped, and stared up at her. “I may be the one who doesn’t want to think about what happened,” she continued, her expression hidden in the darkness of the night. “And if anyone else says something, then I wouldn’t be able to ignore it any longer. I’d have to face the fact that it all happened. That we failed so horribly for so many times… that nothing we did so far could save everyone.” “That’s why we have this second chance.” Hope urged gently. “All those failures means we have all those different timelines to learn from. We know whatnot to do now, and that— that means we have more of a chance to make everything work out now than in any other timeline. Every failure is only another step on the road to success.” He could see the dull reflective gleam of her eyes as she stared at him, and then feel the weight of her hand against his hair, slowly trailing down to the side of his face. He wondered if she could feel the heat of his flush through her thin gloves, or if she could somehow see him more than he could see her in the darkness. “Heh.” The sound was nothing more than a huff of breath, but a more familiar tone than her earlier insecurity. “Is that what you say to all those people in the Academy?” “No.” He admitted. “That’s what they say to me.” She took an audible intake of breath, and then turned to continue on the last steps toward the dully glowing Cie’th stones. “I can see why the Academy was so important to the future, then.” “Light.” He reached to grab at her hand before she could get too far away, feeling almost as if… if he let her walk away, then he might never see her again. It was a ridiculous thought— utterly preposterous, but it had certainly happened before already. “...The Academy would never have happened if you hadn’t been there… you know that, right?” She stopped, and turned once again, allowing him to cling to her. “I wasn’t there, Hope.” “You were.” He insisted. He didn’t know why that had taken him so long to understand, but… “You guys say that I’m so important, but I wouldn’t have been there if it hadn’t been for you. I wouldn’t be here. And everything I did in the Academy barely made a difference next to what Snow did, what Serah and Noel did. Next to what you must have done.” He used to be so angry, if only in the dark hours of the night, on nights like this one. On the days when he felt acutely aware of his own loneliness, Hope would be furious with everyone who left him. With everyone else who happened to be so special that they were called to other things, to greater things, while he was left behind because he somehow didn’t measure up. In those times, he felt angry at everyone who left him, and then felt angry at himself just for feeling that way. Just what did he lack? Why wasn’t he chosen; why was he the only one left behind? That anger abated by adulthood, but never truly went away. And even here in the new timeline… Hope had always been just that slightest been furious. It was a product of his own childhood, of that dark time growing up and finding himself lacking in every way that mattered. He carried that anger with him everywhere, and had gotten so used to it that he didn’t even notice it for the most part. For all that he was supposed to be this great empathetic leader hailed in 400AF, Hope had never gotten over that childish anger that haunted him from before the fall of Cocoon. He might never get rid of the anger, but at least now he could acknowledge it. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t chosen, or that he was lacking, but maybe in some small way he could help now because Lightning was so important and if he could help her in any way… Hope had been waiting, yes, but Lightning had spent her time actively fighting for humanity’s safety. What was his importance compared to the weight of all that responsibility? “If you say not to question it,” he told her, even if the words were heavy in his throat, screaming against his very being, “then I won’t question it.” They stood there for a long moment, and Hope started squirming under her gaze, until Lightning finally came back and step and reached up to flick him lightly against the forehead. “You will question it.” She said, and it sounded like an order. “But not today. Today we’re getting you home before your father thinks you’ve been eaten by a Behemoth on your way back.”

[shamera]

CampNaNoWriMo part 3

Dare Disturb the Universe, continued.

Wishes are powerful things, especially from the minds of those who are powerful enough to take down gods and change the future. When multiple wishes converge, Hope Estheim wakes up after the fall of Cocoon with memories he couldn’t possibly have.

From the Beginning

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Bartholomew took the news of the Cie’th stone and the potential to travel via their magic extremely well. “I see.” The man said when Hope informed him about the properties, and that he could just use those stones to travel between the settlements and New Bodhum. His father had asked about transportation to Dajh’s party and offered to hire airship services since Sazh would very obviously need to stay at home and prepare for his son’s party. “...Should I be worried about them?” “They’re perfectly safe.” Hope was quick to say. “They don’t even react to people who don’t have magic. Actually… they don’t react much even to people who do have magic. Fang managed to make it work, though, and it somehow recognizes us and…” He wasn’t sure how to explain it. He probably should have thought it out better before actually starting the conversation, and maybe he had, but the words turned to dust on the edge of his tongue in the face of his father’s impassive expression. His father sighed after a long moment of silence while Hope tried to find his words again, and folded up his newspaper. “I’d like to investigate these Cie’th stones if possible. And— thank you for telling me about them.” “—That’s how I got here.” Vanille made a humming noise in acknowledgement as they sat together on a makeshift bench in the Katzroy residence foyer, watching numerous children shriek happily as they ran around each other out in the front yard while the adults murmured quietly behind them in the living area. “It should be fine if it’s just him.” Vanille summarized for him, bringing a finger to her lips in thought. “Fang might not like it very much, though. She’s a bit protective of the Stones.” “I don’t blame her.” Hope said. “I don’t want anything to happen to them either, but I don’t want to lie to dad about how I’m getting around. I mean, I don’t think I need to lie to him about this.” Not that he had to lie to his father about anything else, but… there were other topics, stranger topics, that he didn’t know how to bring up yet. It was hard enough trying to tell his dad about the Cie’th Stones, awkward enough trying to explain a magic that still bound all the ex-l’Cie together even though they were supposed to have been over their experiences already. It would be so much worse to try and explain— different futures. Prophecies. Mythologies come to life. Time travel. That was a bag of worms he didn’t want to open yet. It had taken him years to get over the idea of changing the past when he first found out that time travel might be possible, and he had years to deal with his grief then. He kicked the back of his heel against the wood of the bench, watching Dajh’s friends wish him a happy birthday in the yard. “It’s not really a lie, right?” Vanille offered tentatively. “It’s just something really hard to believe.” “He believed me when I told him about what happened in Bodhum.” Hope countered, remembering that painful conversation. “He believed me about being l’Cie, and about the Sanctum.” Vanille didn’t answer that, instead pushing her shoulder against his, reminding him that they had yet to take off their outerwear. That was the reason they were still in the foyer, since Sazh had ordered them not to go dripping mud through the house when he already had to go running after half a dozen kids far younger than them. “Thanks for lending Bhakti to me.” Hope said instead, changing the subject. “He’s pretty amazing.” “Did you manage to learn anything useful?” She asked, the tension from the previous topic dropping. Hope thought for a moment, and nodded. “Yeah. A lot of things, actually. Technology back during the War of Transgression was really advanced. Ahh— I mean…” She smiled at him, and waved off the words. “Things are really different now. I know. Everything looked so strange after I woke up… even though it shouldn’t have been all that different. You guys changed all sorts of things, a lot of it for the better!” “But some for the worse.” Hope concluded, knowing that Vanille would never admit that aloud even if she found it to be true. Some things must have been worse, considering the type of technology he found inside Bhakti. There were some ingenious connections that he originally thought would be dangerous, or a fire hazard, but seeing as the robot hadn’t combusted in five hundred years, he might have miscalculated. “Not the important things.” Vanille told him. “I think I like the people more.” While it was obviously meant as a compliment, he couldn’t help but wonder just how people acted five hundred years ago for Vanille to say that so earnestly. “You kids ready yet or what? How long does it take to take off a jacket, anyway?” “Longer than you’d think, old man!” Vanille quipped back at Sazh, who appeared at the doorway to give them an amused look, seeing as the two of them were still fully dressed and seated on the bench with no indication of moving. “Well, the two of you will have to clear out soon.” Sazh told them, wiping his hands on the makeshift apron that was dusted with flour. Hope wondered just how large the cake was supposed to be. “Serah’s bringing in her batch of students for the party as well, and this place is about to get a whole lot messier.” “Do you need help in the kitchen?” Hope asked, finally starting to tug off his scarf and shrug out of the winter jacket he still had on. Vanille pulled off her gloves next to him, but stuck her tongue out childishly as Sazh laughed at her. “Could always use an extra hand.” Sazh admitted. “But them Team NORA says they’re bringing in food, too. We might actually have so much that the kids might not be able to eat everything.” “There’s not that many kids.” Vanille observed. “Even with Serah’s students.” Sazh tapped her on the head as she got up, and Vanille pouted. “I don’t just mean the munchkins.” The man said with a shake of his head, looking amused. “Don’t forget that the rest of you happen to be kids as well.” “Even Snow?” Vanille sounded gleeful. “Especially that one.” Came a dry response from behind Sazh, who moved aside to reveal Lightning dressed casually in jeans and a turtleneck sweater that clung to her figure. “I’d trust Dajh with more than I’d trust that idiot.” “Dajh is a good kid.” Sazh defended his son, but only shrugged rather than defend Snow against that quip. “Either way, I’ll take all the help I can get. You figured out how to use the oven now, right, Vanille?” “That was just one time!” She protested loudly and huffed, settling her hands on her hips. “Snow said the oven would make a loud noise when the food was done!” “Rule number one is that you never want to just listen to what Snow has to say.” Hope inputted with a smile. “Yes.” Lightning agreed dryly. “Always check with someone else. Serah is a good bet.” As if on cue, there were the sounds of children shouting out greetings from the yard, and Hope turned to see Serah and Snow making their way up to the house with at least four other children in tow who all immediately joined in on the games outside rather than heading toward the house. “Good morning, everyone!” Snow announced loudly as they entered, holding the door open for Serah as she beamed up at him. “How’s it going? No houses burned down?” “That was your fault for telling me the wrong thing!” Vanille protested again. “Is this what you call ‘morning’, Villiers?” Lightning asked instead, arms crossed and looking unimpressed. “You’re late.” “Oh, that would be my fault.” Serah covered for her husband, who only shrugged and grinned at her. “I had a run in with a few of the parents on the way down, and I stayed a little longer than I was supposed to in order to talk to them. I’m sorry.” “You did what you had to.” Lightning told her, expression softening. Snow leaned over to mock whisper at Hope as he shrugged off his coat, “She picks favorites! I would have gotten hit if I used that excuse!” “You wouldn’t have a reason as good as that.” Hope shot back. Serah looked around as she took off her own scarf and light coat, and frowned lightly. “...Where’s Noel?” “Oh, he and Fang are still out.” Vanille informed her. “They’ve been pretty competitive lately— might take a while before they get back.” “How about we move this conversation somewhere that won’t be blocking the door?” Sazh suggested, looking exasperated with the lot of them. “I’ll take whatever help I can get in the kitchen, and someone to help look out for the kids while they’re playing.” “I’ll help in the kitchen.” Hope volunteered immediately before Snow even had the chance to give him a pointed look and then possibly say something about making friends. He slipped past the rest of them, Vanille and Serah following along at a more leisurely pace behind him as they chatted and caught up. The Katzroy kitchen wasn’t a very large room, and on that day looked smaller than usual with the piles of pans and used pots on the counter, each filled with different types of batter or with bowls of different fruits cut up and ready to be mixed in. “Just how many cakes are you planning on making?” Serah exclaimed once she and Vanille managed to squeeze into the small kitchen, Sazh following along behind them after he got both Snow and Lightning to agree to look after the children outside. “We don’t have that many people, Sazh!” “Yeah, that’s right.” The man said with a shrug even as he moved around the ground and took his place at the counter next to all the cake mix boxes. “But we’ve got a bunch of kids, and I know first hand how much food they can eat. Which reminds me that if you’re all going to help, you need to know that the sugar for all of this has been halved— they’re going to eat a lot. Don’t need them staying awake for a week.” That was probably for the best, but… Hope eyed all the different trays wearily. “I don’t think they need cookies and cupcakes with all this cake.” He commented lightly. “Then they can take some home. Haven’t you lot had gift bags given to you when you go to a kid’s party?” If such an exchanged occurred, then Hope didn’t know about it. He shook his head, wondering if that’s what his mom used to do when he got to invite a lot of children over for his birthday. He had never thought about where all that extra party food went… “Shame. That’s how you make sure nothing goes to waste.” Sazh just shrugged nonchalantly, and moved to wash his hands before continuing with the baking. “Serah’ll know what to do. Hope, don’t let Vanille tell you how to handle the oven.” “Hey!” “I’ll try not to.” Hope said, unable to hide his amusement. “Alright,” the older man acknowledged, and smiled at the group. “Let’s get working, then!” .

.

. It took a really long time (far longer than Hope expected) to extricate himself from the children after he brought out the cake for Sazh and was promptly attacked by an older group of Serah’s students who happened to be ‘too old to play with the little kids’ and were curious about him. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, there were only four of them, and three of them happened to be girls. He doesn’t remember being that rambunctious at that age. He doesn’t remember being that rambunctious at any age, really, seeing as three of those four children had argued very loudly whenever he tried to get away and would eventually draw him back into… whatever they were talking about. He didn’t even remember. Must have blanked it all out. Of course, he got no help from Serah when she came out, as she only threw him a wide smile and left him to her students. Traitor, he thought warily after he finally (finally) made his escape once one of the girls managed to drop his arm long enough for him to slink away. They had so much energy he wondered just how their families managed to deal with them. Or maybe it was compounded by the amount of people? Perhaps one child was just fine, but add another and they started to get loud and uncontrollable. Add an entire group and— He didn’t know how Serah managed to do it. He had never been popular in school; usually managed to stay away from large groups of people and succeeding thanks to his friends. Hope felt a pang of regret at the thought of them. He pushed himself further into the corner as he heard the shrill voice of the one of the girls (Emily, and she was eleven and the oldest of the bunch, older than Percy by three months, and Carol and Eliza by almost two years and— well, there was a lot she managed to drill into his head in that short amount of time) passed right by where he was hiding. They were clingy. Even the boy of the group seemed to have no regard at all for personal space and tended to talk right at Hope’s face when he had something to say, which was quite often. It was like dealing with a whole group of— Well. Of Alyssa. And that thought wasn’t helping him at all. It just added to the churning of his stomach to think about how he’d left Alyssa behind. It wasn’t something he liked to think about often, if at all. But it seemed he wouldn’t be able to escape those thoughts. There was a heavier gait that followed along with the children, and those footsteps slowed to a stop right next to his hiding place, prompting Hope to hold his breath and wondering why he felt so paranoid about this because they were just kids but everyone seemed to want him to get along with them for some reason and he was just too different and this wasn’t going to work out at all, what would he tell poor Dajh if he had to run away in the middle of the little boy’s birthday party…? “Why are you hiding in the coat closet?” Hope let out an unintentioned squawk as he felt a heavy hand drop onto his head and Snow grinned at him from hardly inches away from where the man was leaned down. Scratch that— the kids weren’t the only ones with no regard to personal space. “It seems you’ve made a good impression on the students.” Snow observed, still grinning even as Hope shoved his hand away. The main straightened up again, waiting for Hope to either explain himself or maybe attempt to leave his hiding spot. “Haven’t heard Emily this loud in at least three weeks since Pierre turned her down. She seems pretty eager to get to know you!” Hope murmured something unpleasant under his breath directed at the man, and Snow laughed loudly. It made the boy freeze up for several moments, wondering if anyone was going to come and investigate the noise. Apparently even Serah’s students were used to Snow’s boisterous attitude, seeing as no one so much as batted an eyelash in their direction. “Don’t you have other places to be?” Hope asked instead, frowning up at the man. “Nope.” The blond stopped then, and then amended, “Fang’s been looking for you. Wondered where you dropped off to.” She and Noel must have returned while Hope had been being pushed around by kids physically younger than him by four years (and that was nearly a fourth of his physical age so that was really strange to think about) and it was embarrassing enough that Emily was nearly his height because Hope couldn’t wait for his growth spurt to kick in. “Don’t think too hard about it.” Snow told him sympathetically as the man must have seen his conflicted expression and correctly deduced what it was about. “Those kids are just at that age. She’ll get another crush by next week, or even before that. They’re just kids.” “Did you have her not letting you out of your sight for nearly a full hour?” Hope deadpanned. “...Do you really want to know the answer to that question?” “Urg. No.” Although he could see Serah being vastly entertained by the idea… or not. He wasn’t sure. Either way, he didn’t want to think about anyone having a crush on Snow (and maybe that was how Lightning tried to pretend that her little sister wasn’t actually married to the man). Snow just chuckled, and managed to herd Hope from his previous hiding spot. “C’mon. I got a better place for you. Did you know all of those brats are scared to death of Fang? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind you hiding in her shadow for a bit since she wanted to talk to you.” “What, she actually knows them?” “Everyone in town knows each other.” Was Snow’s evasive answer. “The kids are probably following you around because you don’t visit enough for them to get to know you. We don’t get a lot of visitors in New Bodhum, you know. Most of us have been here since the very start of the town… granted, wasn’t that long ago. They’re going to be curious about anyone new.” “Hmm.” He didn’t resist as Snow ushered him away. As they made their way through the small dwelling to the kitchen (which, thankfully, didn’t have any kids in it at all) and Snow waved to get Fang’s attention from where she was talking to Sazh. “And here’s our tyke!” She greeted them as they came up, leaning on the counter which had only recently been wiped off all the spilled flour. “Heard the viper looking for ya. Caught her eye, have you?” “The viper?” Hope questioned, but then shook his head. No. He could see where that term might have come from, judging from Fang’s smirk as he rubbed his arm. She did have quite the grip, and a way of not letting go at all. “Never mind. Snow said you were looking for me?” “Sure was.” She responded, and nodded toward Sazh, who just looked resigned. “Not just me, either.” “I wanted to ask—” And here Sazh paused, looking rather embarrassed, which was something Hope hadn’t seen the man do before. “That is to say, Serah’s a fantastic teacher. She’s got a real good head for making sense of things, and at keeping the kids in line. But she’s got to deal with over thirty of the kids, and they’re all different ages. I don’t envy her. She’s got a different lesson plan for each one of them, you know?” “That sounds amazing.” Hope admitted. “She must be really busy.” “She is. And, well, Dajh has been having a bit of trouble lately and I didn’t want to bother Serah for more of her time. Maybe he doesn’t really need the help, but I’ve got the job to run and Serah’s already overrun…” “And I’ve been out too much with Sis to help here.” Snow butted in with a shrug, reminding Hope that the man was still standing behind him and had never left. “Can’t say I’m all that good with teaching, either…” “Dajh needs a little extra help with his letters.” Sazh said straight out, and then shrugged helplessly. “It’s not that bad. Few things with spelling, with writing, and a bunch of rules I can’t even remember well enough to teach him about grammar. Vanille volunteered to help, but then we realized—” “We might speak the same language, but our written language is drastically different.” Fang cut in.She didn’t look very impressed. “Not hard to learn, but we’re not the prime examples to go teaching it. We asked Noel about it, and what do you know? His writing is even more different to the rest of us. Can’t read a word of anything he puts down on the paper.” “I’m not surprised.” Hope shrugged. “The writing four hundred years in the future was drastically different as well. I had to relearn the language.” It was strange to bring that up now; to remember the bright cityscape and the people who had been so eager to share information and spoke in a manner that was both similar to him and yet not. The basic words were the same, but the slang… that was completely different. Everything he thought meant one thing would actually turn out to be another. That had led to some… rather embarrassing moments for him. It would make sense if Noel was from a future even even further than 400AF. The others gave each other a look above his head, and Hope felt a further sense of awkwardness. This was the first time he actually brought up the future in front of them. They must have known that he remembered, seeing as Hope couldn’t see an option where Serah and Vanille didn’t tell the others what was going on. Ever since he was informed that everyone other than him knew about the futures when he first woke up in the hospital… It just reminded him that there were things he really needed to know. It was one thing to give people space (and that was a concept he was intimately familiar with, especially with the life he had lived previously), and another thing entirely to let pertinent information go dark. But the question was how to bring the topic up, and the right moment to bring that topic up. He still hadn’t managed to have a conversation about the future with Lightning yet, and Hope had a feeling that she would want to know about everything he knew. If he were to ever fulfil his promise to Yeul, then he would need to know— everything. But perhaps now, at Dajh’s birthday party, it wasn’t the time to start inquiring. “I can help him with his letters.” Hope volunteered instead, to keep the others from continuing to give each other those looks. “Vanille’s offer is a good one. We’re all going to need knowledge of Pulsian writing soon. It would help Dajh a lot to be one of the very first to learn, although it’d probably be best to talk to him about that.” Again, he wasn’t sure if today was the best day to do that. Was it a good idea to offer a kid like Dajh lessons rather than presents for his birthday? “That would be great.” Snow said, and then thought about his words for a moment before adding, “If you’re not too busy, kiddo. I’ve been told you’ve been swamped with things lately.” “Swamped?” Sazh raised an eyebrow at that, and turned his full attention to Hope. “What have you been up to these days, Hope? I heard you weren’t going to school.” Hope shrugged, wondering if he looked as awkward as he felt. It was very likely that the others, just like his father, would have just assumed he would have continued his schooling and follow about this timeline to grow up a second time… except it was different this time around, and that wasn’t something he could deny. Still, he hadn’t expected to feel so put on the spot by that question, like he was supposed to be in school still and telling stories about teachers who assigned too much homework or classmates who didn’t make good lab partners. He had to remind himself that the question wasn’t insinuating that he was being lazy due to a lacking of school schedule, because of course Sazh didn’t mean it like that. “This and that,” he replied vaguely, because that was the best answer he could give. Between attempting to anonymously contact former coworkers and inspiring would-be inventors, Hope was attempting to push science forward on his own as well, all the while attempting to weigh the cost-benefit ratio for every little thing that he might change in this timeline. Push too hard and the rush of technology might collapse the fragile foothold the ex-Cocoon citizens had in this society, and he wouldn’t be able to predict any of the outcomes. Who knew? It could be the smallest thing that tipped the scales, and it was something he ran through his thoughts again and again every single day from the moment he woke to the moment he fell back asleep again. His father might be disappointed with the amount of coffee that Hope was starting to smuggle into his own breakfast in the mornings. It wasn’t going to school, but he wasn’t wasting his time, either. Hope had grander plans in motion that needed both a large push and a subtle nudge. “Well then,” Sazh said in response to the elusive answer, shaking his head, “don’t push yourself too hard, you hear? Kids these days. Maybe you should come around more often and have Serah’s students introduce themselves to you.” At that, Snow laughed loudly while Fang snorted from Sazh’s other side. “Oh, you don’t need to worry about that!” Snow exclaimed, slapping Sazh’s shoulder companionably. “They’ve already done that part!” That had Fang laughing as well, “Isn’t that crazy one, is it? What was she called again—” “Emily.” Snow provided gleefully. “And the whole posse she brought over to Dajh’s party.” “What, not those four?” Sazh asked, and then turned to say to Hope, “I don’t recommend hanging out too much with that bunch. They’re good kids, to be sure, but they’re just a bunch of junior Snow and Team NORA in the making.” “Hey!” “Don’t worry,” Hope interjected before the others could get too into the conversation. “I don’t plan on it.” Friends weren’t exactly something he needed. In fact, he had more than the previous timeline, and he was more than happy with the friends he did have. To get everyone back had been… it had been all he ever wanted. (Almost.) “Alright then,” Sazh confirmed again over Snow and Fang’s snickers on the kids, the two of them murmuring to each other regarding the exploits Serah’s students must have gotten up to in the past several months (including one story that Hope could hear over about Percy having stolen Serah’s necklace once and taken it out of New Bodhum entirely). “If you say you’re alright with it, then I won’t question you further. That means I plan to see more of you around, you hear? You’re a part of this family as well, and we don’t get to see you nearly as much as I see the rest of these oafs here.” Hope smiled, feeling a wave of relief at the easy acceptance. “Don’t worry,” he told the man. “I’ll do my best to be over more.” The future was important, and Yeul’s sacrifice was important… but Hope knew better than the squander the second chance he managed to get on nothing more than research. This time around, he’d be able to grow up with some of the people who meant the most to him, and he was definitely going to find the time for them.

[shamera]

Camp NaNoWriMo part 2

Dare Disturb the Universe, continued once more!

Wishes are powerful things, especially from the minds of those who are powerful enough to take down gods and change the future. When multiple wishes converge, Hope Estheim wakes up after the fall of Cocoon with memories he couldn’t possibly have.

Beginning  Last Time On....

.

It was nearly an hour after Vanille had left, promising to return the next day, that Rygdea entered the much warmer hanger and stopped just at the doorway, looking rather bewildered. “I must have taken a wrong turn.” The soldier exclaimed flatly, drawing Hope’s attention away from Bhakti, who had been powered down and was staying with Hope on the interim until Hope managed to find a way to copy the little robot’s systems onto a more modern processor. The man squinted dramatically at his surroundings, shielding his eyes with a hand as if protecting himself from a bright light to see better when in truth there were only three lamps that Hope kept lit scattered about his workplace unless he needed more illumination. “Yup. Must have. This place isn’t as dreary as where I’m supposed to be. Hey, you happen to see a kid around here? Yay high, all stoic and no-funny-business and has the attitude of a middle-aged man?” “That’s very funny.” Hope responded dryly, frowning. “I do not. And I’m not that short!” Rygdea snickered before lowering the hand he had to indicate height at around his ribs, finally stepping in fully and then running a hand through his messy hair. “What happened to this place, anyway? Looks cozy. Better yet— what happened to you?” Hope ran a hand through his own shortened hair self-consciously. “...Vanille helped me cut my hair. And decided to decorate.” By decorate, she hadn’t managed to change too much, although she left a pure white pelt over the shabby couch in the corner and hung several beaded bracelets over his lamps before leaving a pile of colorful knitted blankets that she managed to stuff into her bag in order to make sure Bhakti was safe for the ride over his chair and around the surrounding floor because she claimed the area was ‘too cold!’ and he needed something softer to step on, anyway. Apparently Snow had finally slowed down in his sporadic knitting efforts, although the result from the past several months meant that there were far too many blankets for him to even give away and therefore he wouldn’t miss what Vanille had taken to spread over Hope’s workspace. Which might have been fine if Snow hadn’t been attempting to knit… well, Hope didn’t know what they were since the yarn blurred together into ghastly colors somewhere in the middle of the blankets. “She did a good job.” Rygdea complimented, although he gave Hope a pointed look. “It’s just strange to see you with your hair so short now. Thought you were going to take after my hairstyle these past few days.” The teenager scoffed, but moved to brush against the strangely prickly edges of his hair again, the feeling foreign even through his gloves. Vanille had been hesitant to cut his hair so short at first, and in the end it still wasn’t as short as he would have liked, but the wispy strands were definitely off his neck now, and his bangs were cut shorter than when he had been a l’Cie. (A part of him wondered if this meant he could finally flip the mirror back over again and not see his mother watching him out of the corner of his eye.) “You look like a hooligan.” Hope said, his tone as free as he usually was with… well, Snow. It made Rygdea’s eyebrows shoot up before Hope remembered that this man hadn’t spent years babysitting him whenever his father had to be at an important meeting, and that this Rygdea had only really known him in the past several months as the reserved and eccentric teen with too-large dreams that he kept indulging. Rather than take insult, however, the soldier laughed loudly. “Well!” The man exclaimed after his laugh, smirking. “I guess this is what you would have been like if you acted your age, huh? It’s good to know you’re not as hopeless with making friends as I thought you were. You had your dad worried for a while, you know! With the whole not going to school thing and all, we weren’t sure if you’d ever figure out a way to be a normal kid again.” “I think it’s more concerning that you talk about me at all.” Hope griped, but couldn’t help the fond huff. He… really should thank the man properly one day. Rygdea didn’t have to go out of his way to look after a dysfunctional teen, didn’t have to indulge in Hope’s strange ideas, but the man usually did so anyway. Even the teasing and check ups were things that he missed— after he left for the future. “What can I say? Your life is like a reality show; it’s riveting to keep track of. That is, if you actually did anything other than this— which you still haven’t told me what this is, yet.” Rygdea waved an arm to gesture to the hanger, and made his way over to the ratty old couch, flopping down with a heavy and satisfied sigh. Hope frowned at the gesture. It meant that the man was settling himself in for the long haul, but he wasn’t exactly planning on staying in the hangar for all that much longer. Maybe to finish up a few more things, but… “Didn’t I say it was a science experiment?” Hope told him, and swerved in his chair. “And I’m not here all the time. I’m going home soon.” “You’re like this mini adult,” Rygdea said, making a face before grinning to show he was joking. “You know what most kids do? They get up, they go to school, then they hang out with friends and pretend the word responsibility doesn’t exist. They, uh— they have hobbies and play games and get into fights with their parents complain about homework and girlfriends and some of them are good kids who get good grades and follow all the rules, but they still follow this pattern. “Most of those kids grow up to be exactly the same as adults, too. Get up, go to work, hang out with friends and pretend responsibilities don’t exist, then complain about their family or work or relationships. They have too many hobbies and interests and things they want to do so they accumulate vacation days and promise themselves to get around capturing a bit of their lives back.” It was an awfully familiar conversation, and Hope was struck again by just how similar this new timeline was to the old one at times. “Are you describing yourself, then?” “Yeah, sure.” Rygdea admitted with a shrug, “and the basis of most kids and adults out in the world. I guess that’s where the term ‘young adult’ comes in. When you’re old enough to be an adult, but you still feel like you’re young enough to still be that kid, you know? That’s why people are young adults until they’re in their thirties.” “I still don’t understand why you’re telling me this.” The soldier made a humming noise in agreement, different to the tone he had before, and that got Hope curious enough to give him the time to form his thoughts. “I have a point.” The man said eventually, looking thoughtful now. “I’ve been speaking with… people, regarding the trial. While we can argue that you are underage and therefore should not be forced to testify in court on a subject matter that is clearly traumatic, I doubt that argument would hold against all the things that have happened this past year.” That was true enough, and Hope didn’t argue on the ‘underage’ portion. Rygdea didn’t know. “I thought I’d run through the game plan with you. Your interviewers are planning to release the audio interviews the day before the trial once they’ve cleaned it up a bit. From what I’ve been told, they’re doing Serah’s first, and then yours, just to give the story a more linear perspective. Give people just enough time to digest a new side of the story before everything’s forced to trial. They’re saying this will tide things over to us in a small way… ahh, I don’t know. I’m not a lawyer or anything. “The point is: it’s more than likely you’ll be called up as a witness, and this is going to happen after the interviews are released, so you’re likely to get all kinds of questions. You’re a good kid, Hope. A good kid, but you act more like an adult than most people I know. It works for you. But you’re, what? Fourteen?” Fifteen now, Hope didn’t comment. “Your dad worries, you know. Even if he doesn’t say much about it. He’s damned worried about this trial and having to put you up for the public to gawk at. He won’t say it, of course, but you’re still young and if you talk to the judge— or at least tell us to do it, then we might be able to get just a written statement and excuse you from having to appear. You’ve got every excuse to stay a kid the next few weeks. There’s no need to act so adult all the time.” Hope thought about it, resisting the urge to pull up his legs onto his seat in a childish manner while he figured out Rygdea’s, and in the process his father’s, method of thought. He did understand. Appearing in public meant more than an audio interview. It gave the public something visual to memorize; a face to attach to all their feelings of despair and anger. It hadn’t been a year yet since the Fall, and Hope didn’t imagine that many people had made peace with the events completely. It was one thing for people to know about the ex-l’Cie still living amongst them, and another thing entirely for mobs to form once they had a common target. And mobs would form. He wasn’t stupid enough to rule that out. A single person ruminating in their negative feelings was dangerous enough, but put those people in a crowd of like-minded thinkers and that danger level grew exponentially. People did drastic things when they imagined themselves justified in their actions. Who knew what would happen after the trial? The interview wasn’t a guarantee that things would go their way, and even if the other side was in the wrong, they had the overwhelming support of people who also felt just as angry as they did. Hope wasn’t going to fool himself out of understanding the public opinion. “You don’t want me to appear at the trial.” He summarized, thinking it over. “Because then I’d be more of a target than I am now.” “That’s not going to happen.” Rydgea assured him. “Your dad won’t let that happen to you, and Sergeant Farron… well, she’s definitely not going to let anything happen to you. Not to mention all your friends.” “If I don’t testify, then the jury might not get the full story.” Hope said slowly, running through the scenarios in his head. “The lawyers could… phrase questions in ways that will make the kidnappers look like they were doing the right thing, and there’d be no one to say otherwise.” “You don’t have to worry about that. They’re clearly in the wrong, and there’s nothing they can say that will change that.” “But it doesn’t matter if they’re wrong or not. People don’t like l’Cie, even if the real story is out there and we’re not l’Cie anymore. If we don’t tell our sides… if I don’t say what happened to me, then no one’s going to listen. It doesn’t matter if I write it all down… they’re not going to read it. Not unless I get them to listen to me. Isn’t that right?” “Hope.” And here Rydgea finally dropped the cheerful act, looking as serious as Hope had seen him back on the Lindblum, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees on his expression evened out to something casual, yet alert. “You may not believe me, especially since the system on Cocoon has failed you already, but I will make sure things go the way they should. I’m asking you on your father’s behalf, since he’d never ask you to do this no matter how much he wants to protect you, but if you just say that you don’t want to take part in the trial, I’ll make sure you don’t have to. And I’ll make sure the trial goes the way it should.” Hope took a few seconds to digest those words, watching the soldier’s casual posture. “...Isn’t that an abuse of your power?” He finally asked, giving into the impulse to pull his legs up onto the chair. “Mr. Next-Primarch?” “Ahh.” Rydgea winced, and slouched forward to rub a hand over the back of his neck. “You heard that, then.” Hope also knew that Rydgea would never accept the position. Would argue for the demolishment of a system that allowed the rampant corruption to continue, and would eventually urge the preliminary government to turn over a fraction of power to the academics instead and put the Academy in a high position of power. But for the first year after the Fall, the people would clamor for a leader they knew and understood, for a system of familiarity to blanket themselves into a false sense of security. They wanted someone to take over, and with Cid Raines as the last Primarch before the Fall of Cocoon and the one who killed him… “Just rumors.” Hope lied, because he hadn’t been following along the politics at all, but he also knew that it wasn’t exactly a secret that Rydgea was being pushed into a leadership position, or that he would eventually have a hand in the creation of the new system of government. “People aren’t going to like it if you so obviously side with the l’Cie who brought down the world.” “Then they can find someone else to lead them.” Rydgea said flippantly, raising his head again with all traces of embarrassment gone. “I’m not here for them to delude themselves into thinking the old world still exists.” “You don’t have to side with us, you know.” Hope reminded him. It would probably be easier for Rydgea if he didn’t, actually, and the man could still do the good work that Hope remembered from a different future. “I can take care of myself. We all can.” “Yeah, yeah,” the soldier admitted gruffly, scratching at the stubble on his chin, “It doesn’t mean the adults can’t worry about the kids a little.” “You’re not as old as you make yourself sound.” “You’re right. I’m still a young adult! But you know what? I might have told your father that I’d keep an eye out for you. Not in so many words, mind you. But it means I have a right to be irritating and bother you at random hours.” The admission made Hope furrow his brows. That… made sense, in a way. Even when he had grown up last time, Rydgea had made a point to stop by often and randomly. The man used to babysit him, even, and would call him up sometimes even after Bartholomew Estheim had died. “I’m not going to ask you to help me get out of the trial.” Hope decided to tell him outright. He was sure that if he sounded even the slightest bit hesitant about it, Rygdea wouldn’t give up on trying to ‘help’. “I think that I need to do this. And I won’t try to be more childish in order to gain sympathy, either. I’m not just another kid who needs to be protected, and if I act like that instead of like I usually do, then I’d just be lying to everyone.” The soldier gave a dramatic sigh, and stood up from the couch. “You,” the man declared, “are going to give everyone around you grey hairs before long. Too adult for your own good. How are we supposed to keep you safe like this?” They probably couldn’t, not if the assassination in 400AF was anything to go by. Not if all the futures that the others still refused to tell him anything about was anything to go by. Hope just smiled instead. “I told you. I can take care of myself.” And even if he couldn’t, he would find another way to do things. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the lengths that Rydgea (and truly, not just him but everyone else as well) did things, but Hope was used to operating on his own with very little support. This was already a second chance, and as sad as it was to think it, he had more important things to resolve than just this trial. Even if this might be a turning point for the timeline and create one of the biggest changes he had seen yet. “You don’t have to worry about it.” Hope told him. “And you can tell dad that, too. Whatever happens, I’ll take care of it.” Maybe that was a little much, as Rydgea just gave him a very strange look until Hope squirmed under his gaze. The man finally sighed, and then stepped over the knitted blankets scattered about to pat Hope briefly on the shoulder before he moved back toward the hangar exit. “You know,” Rydgea said without looking back, only waving a hand in goodbye, “I can understand why your dad wants to keep you safe, kid. I’ll talk to you about this tomorrow, then.” Hope didn’t doubt it. He was sure that Rydgea would keep talking to him about not appearing at the trial up until the very day. He knew the soldier well enough to know. — “Are you going to tell me not to testify, too?” There was silence from the other side of the phone for several seconds, although Hope didn’t mind. He had taken Bhakti back with him from the hangar and set the little robot on his desk carefully after dinner with his father, who hadn’t brought up Rygdea’s words, but then again, Hope doubted his dad even knew Rydgea had spoken to him about it. “I would prefer if you didn’t.” Lightning told him, and he could hear the frown in her tone. “Just as I would prefer that Serah not give that interview at all.” “You still let her, though.” “I didn’t let her do anything.” She insisted, sounding exasperated. “She would do what she wants, regardless of whether I approve or not. Snow is a shining example.” Hope grinned, glad that he didn’t have the video option turned on because he was sure she would be angry seeing it. “Or the best example that she does listen to what you have to say. She didn’t marry him in the future I came from, you know. Wanted to find you first. Something about your blessing.” Surprisingly, rather than scoffing at what he said, the line was once again quiet until Hope frowned, and tapped at the phone he had on a dock on his desk. “...Light?” “...I’m listening.” “Oh.” Had he… hit a nerve somehow? “Sorry. I guess she didn’t wait in your future.” “She did. Just like you said.” But then, there was crumpling noise and Lightning’s voice hardened again. “Let’s not discuss that future. We’re here to change what happens, not reminisce.” That didn’t seem right. He had given it a lot of thought, and moreover, a lot of time, but it didn’t seem like Lightning wanted to share what happened in the different futures at all. In fact, none of the others seemed very willing to share, and Hope wasn’t sure whether it was because they just didn’t want to worry him (which made no sense since it would be best if he knew what happened to best avoid the situation from happening again) or because Lightning had told them specifically not to discuss the matter with him, but… he had a suspicion. But he still didn’t know just how to bring that up to her. “Okay.” He conceded, even as he winced. Stupid, stupid… It would just be worse later on if he kept that topic muzzled. He’d have to know eventually. It should be soon. “...So what have you been up to?” “Tracking down more of that organization.” And here she sounded more certain again. “The good thing is, it’s not as large as I feared. Most of the contacts that Snow and I hadn’t been able to find initially had only been outlier groups. Public opinion may not be as bad as you imagine it to be.” He doubted that. He had grown up with that opinion, after all, while the others disappeared. “That’s a good sign, then.” Was he lying? It wasn’t what he meant to do, yet something about her tone from before withheld him from pointing out what he thought to be nothing more than optimism rather than fact. Maybe he wanted to believe what she said as well. “Yes.” She confirmed. “So you don’t need to worry. Trial or not, the group isn’t going to get away unpunished.” He wasn’t worried about that, although sometimes he felt like maybe he should be. “I know.” He said. “You won’t let them get away with it.” ...And he wasn’t going to, either.

[shamera]

Dare Disturb the Universe, cont.

Wishes are powerful things, especially from the minds of those who are powerful enough to take down gods and change the future. When multiple wishes converge, Hope Estheim wakes up after the fall of Cocoon with memories he couldn't possibly have.

Beginning  |||  Does anyone even remember where we left off?

.

The roster for who would be going to Paddra came out within the week, and Hope glanced over the names briefly in his lunch break as his father spoke sternly on the phone behind the door. He had a tablet in one arm, browsing the agenda and goals of the excavation and leaning against the wall as people rushed around beyond the glass hallway. He recognized at least a third of the names, if only vaguely, and wondered where the rest of the team he had been so familiar with had gone. Perhaps they just weren’t ready yet, since this excavation takes place almost two years before the prior timeline’s. Hope was doing his best to push his father’s plans along faster this time around, but that would mean he would have to taken into account the possible changes — namely, people who wouldn’t be ready for things and those who would be pushed harder in order to accomplish more in a shorter period of time. “You again.” The voice was surprised, and Hope looked up to see a woman dressed modestly for the cold weather staring at him, one arm holding onto her shoulderbag while the other had her phone out in mid-action. Hope pushed away from the wall, attempting a polite smile. “I’m sorry, Miss, if you have an appointment with Mr. Estheim—” and wasn’t it strange to call his dad that, “he’s in the middle of a call right now. If you’d like to wait outside the hallway, I can tell you when he’s done—” “No, I’m not here for that.” The woman interrupted him, this time sounding haughty and impatient and that was when the recognition sparked. It was a tone he knew, and not because of a previous timeline. No, the memory was much closer than that. He just couldn’t place it yet. As if catching herself and her tone, the woman shifted on her feet and looked past the glass wall toward the rest of the busy office, and then back at him, although her expression was pensive this time. “I’m waiting on my husband. He’s in a meeting regarding his patent on the neutron cell.” That sparked off another moment of recognition. Ahh, that was right. Dr. Pinnair invented the neutron cell in 3AF, which greatly boosted the Academy’s building thanks to cheaper and more powerful computers. He had freely given the newly established institution the plans and became a prominent engineer and inventor within the ranks of the Academy. He had also been one of the contacts that Hope recalled, and had anonymously sent off tips and hints for his breakthrough after his meeting with Yeul. On the one hand, it was good to know the anonymous tips had worked. On the other, it didn’t help him recognize the woman standing in front of him any better. “That’s fantastic,” Hope told her, earnest. He brought his tablet closer to himself. “I hope the patent goes through.” The woman gave him another strange glance, and then looked like she was about to say something before thinking better of it. “...Yes. Yes, I suppose you would.” Hope felt his smile strain as they both continued to stand there. “Um…” He intoned, feeling flustered under her indescribable look. He hadn’t given the office next to his father’s any thought, but now this was just getting awkward. His father’s assistant had an area of her own, but that was locked and he didn’t have the key seeing as he didn’t need anything from the area. He had never minded before, since he tended to eat lunch with his father, but today had been an exception seeing as Bartholomew picked up the call and immediately motioned for Hope to leave the room for a bit. He could move out of the way and allow the woman the hallway to wait for her husband in peace, but that would mean going around her, and then excusing himself and coming back when his father was done with the phone call. The easiest solution was just to wait there. Hope squirmed slightly under her gaze. “...You’re different than I thought you would be.” The woman admitted reluctantly after several seconds. She hadn’t changed her posture, still standing with her phone ready. Hope wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Parden?” She didn’t elaborate, however, and Hope couldn’t have been more relieved when his father’s office door opened again and Bartholomew look out. “Hope? You can come back in now.” He tried not to show his relief even as he murmured a polite farewell to the woman and scrambled into the office after his father, closing the door behind her. “I didn’t know you and Mrs. Pinnair were on speaking terms.” Hope only shook his head in denial as his father asked about it. It would make sense that Bartholomew Estheim knew all about who came in and out of the building, but Hope certainly didn’t. “Her husband has made some amazing discoveries in the recent weeks,” his father continued, shuffling through a stack of his paperwork. “He’s been coming in regularly for patents. I’ve spoken with him regarding his research before. He’s interested in the Academy.” “That sounds great.” Hope finally said, although he had to swallow twice before he found his voice again. Perhaps he had been too out of touch with everything in the past several months, having gotten used to the safety and tranquility of this timeline, kidnapping or not. He was now used to speaking with his friends, and things were rarely awkward with them — not like that, anyway. He thought about how he could go about this carefully. “She said something about a neutron cell?” “A new power source for technology here on Gran Pulse,” Bartholomew explained, pulling out a folder from the mess. “It’s quite the invention. I’ve spoken with Dr. Pinnair once; he claimed he had some help with the designs, but wouldn’t tell me more than that. We could use his help with the Academy.” Hope made a quiet, choked noise. “Yeah, I guess so. Who… who is Mrs. Pinnair, though? She seems familiar, but…” “I’m not surprised you don’t remember her.” His father commented. “She was your night shift nurse from — back when you were in the hospital.” And suddenly, Hope could remember her with crystal clarity. She had been the one that caught him out of bed after hours, and the one Hope had automatically assumed to be who protested against his stay in the hospital with other, normal kids. “Oh.” Was the only thing he managed to say, swallowing nervously. It had been months, but… “We haven’t spoken much.” Bartholomew continued. “She tends to keep to herself even when she does visit. I’m surprised the two of you got along so well. She doesn’t usually speak to anyone here.” Hope doubted the conversation had been going as well as his father thought it was. Instead, he gestured to the tablet for a subject change. “...There seems to be a lot of people interested in Paddra.” His father made a curious noise, somewhat distracted, before adjusting his glasses and shifting his attention to his son. “That? Yes, I’m just as surprised. I thought it might still be a little too early to shift attention from reconstruction to other areas, but perhaps I was wrong.” “Maybe people just want to think about something else after so long.” Hope commented quietly. There was far too much concentrated on grieving and survival, even after so long. He knew from experience that it was hard to move on unless someone was forced to. The group of them couldn’t exactly go confronting everyone who suffered a loss during those turbulent times. Likely, that wouldn’t even help. It was better to throw up other subjects of interest now that they had some breathing room. A warm hand rested firmly on his shoulder and Hope startled, looking up from where his gaze had fallen onto his tablet to see his father’s smiling face. “Then let’s give them something else to think about.” Bartholomew told him, before releasing his grip and sitting back with a nod. “What do you think so far?” “Of the list?” Hope asked. His father gestured down to the scattering of tablets on his desk. “The list, the dig, the plans for the Academy in general.” “I think everything seems to be going well.” He answered lightly, unsure whether he was supposed to think too much upon it in the first place. Hope didn’t know everything that was going on, after all, but he had a good idea of the happenings. Things were proceeding faster than in the previous timeline, which was a good thing. While the first time he lived through these years had been fine, per say, there were many improvements to be made. “I think it might take… time, but everyone’s going to approve of your idea eventually.” His father didn’t respond for a long while, mulling over those words, and Hope started to get the sense that he might have said the wrong thing. “Dad?” He ventured after a few tense seconds, squirming under his father’s thoughtful gaze. “That’s a very mature thing to say.” Bartholomew finally said, voice low even as the man leaned back against his chair with an unreadable expression. “Very diplomatic. Optimistic, agreeable, and yet tells me nothing about what you actually think. Simple, as well. Makes it easy enough to believe that the phrasing is due to the fact that you haven’t formulated your complete opinion yet.” Hope stilled, thoughts coming to a halt. Yes. That was true. He did have a tendency to phrase things as simplistically as possible, mostly to avoid conflicts and allow other people to keep talking and reveal what they intended in the first place. It was something he learned— —From his father. Bartholomew raised a hand up slowly to remove his glasses, looking tired. “You know,” the older man said evenly, “you were always a good kid. Quiet, observant… your mom said you were just shy, but I thought it was because you listened too much. Always liked making sure no one got upset by whatever you said. It was a funny, but admirable, trait to see in a child. A good trait. But Nora— she… she said she’d be glad when you grew out of it. Said that you deserved to make waves and test things out for yourself. Personally, I think tact and observation skills are two very good traits to have, but… Hope. You don’t have to play peacekeeper here. If there’s anything you’d like to… point out or say, then I would welcome that input. More than welcome; I look forward to your thoughts.” Hope ducked his head, unsure of his own expression to the words, although he tried to unclench his fingers from the tablet, feeling… a little too wound up. Was he glad to hear those words? It didn’t make sense that something so simple and honest could cause such a turbulence of emotions within him, but… His father had said something akin to that once before, in a timeline now erased, looking so much older but with a gentler smile as he reminded his son not to compromise so much that he lost his own opinions in the process. “There are better ways to provide happiness than to give people what they want over what you want.” His father had said. “I have always valued your input, and I’m certain that anyone you speak with will be of the same mind. Don’t hesitate to speak out if you have something to say. No matter how small a detail you may find it.” Maybe it was that reminder rather than the mentions of his mother that had Hope struggling to push down the sudden wave of nostalgia and sadness, but he found that all he could do was nod in agreement. It was strange that he could remember so clearly what he felt after Bartholomew Estheim died: the hollow space within himself struggling with the despair and selfish pain that grieved for the last person who loved him unconditionally. He hadn’t understood it then, and still couldn’t understand it now. “...I know.” He managed to say, still unable to look up. “I get that.” He could hear his father sigh softly, perhaps despairing for how his words didn’t seem to reach his son. Perhaps for another reason altogether. There was a shift of clothing, and then a warm hand atop his head, sliding through his hair. “Alright.” Bartholomew agreed. “I just wanted you to know that.” — “So is this where you’ve been holing up?” Vanille wrapped her arms around herself and frowned, green eyes glaring skeptically at the mostly barren hanger that had been unofficially designated as Hope’s. She didn’t seem impressed with the grey walls or threadbare comforts piled high with sharp pieces of electronics or with the tiny heater that Rygdea had set up after discovering just how many hours a day Hope tended to spend in that cold space. “It’s not well lit at all! And you’ll catch your death of cold here!” “I don’t have all the lights on.” He explained, barely bothering to glance up from his work to ensure that she was fine and in one piece from having arrived earlier from using the Cie’th Stones to travel. “And it’s cold in the winter.” Vanille made an irritated noise at how he brushed her off, and soon enough Hope felt a weight leaning against his back as he sat hunched over with his attention to a magnifying glass that let him see all the smallest connections of the microprocessor he was attempting to expand. “You’ve been here too long.” She lamented, breath warm against the top of his head as her arms settled loosely around his shoulders in a familiar embrace. “All the snow’s melted in New Bodhum. It won’t stay winter for very long.” He paused in his work, honestly surprised. “The snow’s gone?” “All gone.” She agreed. “It’s been raining the past three days now. Might rain for another three days yet.” It was still cold in the settlements, but the lower land received far less snow given the sporadic bits that barely clung to the ground before it was washed away by rain. Did that mean that spring was hurrying along? Time was passing faster than Hope had thought. “Weren’t you busy with your own project?” He asked her, and felt Vanille huff into his hair, her arms tightening ever so slightly. “I finished.” She told him, and leaned down to brush her cheek against his temple, gazing curiously at his work. “In fact, I brought him over just to show you.” “Brought…?” At that, Vanille’s warmth vanished from around his shoulders, and he turned slightly to watch as she put down the backpack she brought along with her, rummaging cheerfully through the small bag to bring out a small metal robot which seemed to be wiggling curiously within her grasp, metal optics scanning the vicinity. “Say hello, Bhakti!” Vanille told the small robot enthusiastically, and Hope remembered how the thing from when they had been l’Cie and back in Oerba: how they had all hunted and scoured the village for extra parts in order to repair Vanille’s old and faithful pet. The robot wiggled some more in what could possibly be a greeting, and then echoed Vanille’s words in a more masculine and metallic tone. “Hello, Bhakti.” “Don’t mind him.” Vanille said over the old robot, her smile wide and genuine. “He’s always had a dry sense of humor. I think that could be Fang’s fault, actually.” Hope didn’t doubt it. He leaned toward the robot, pulling his legs under him in his seat to give him more leverage as he reached out a hand to hesitantly pet the rusted robot, watching in amusement as the thing wiggled and then settled under his touch. “...I forgot about him last time.” “Don’t worry about it.” Vanille told him, still smiling. “He wandered out of the village, did you know? Got himself lost near Taejin’s Tower. He’s lucky he wasn’t eaten!” The robot seemed to think different, making whirring noises and rotating its eyes up to stare sadly at its owner like a drooping puppy. “He’s still working from the last time we replaced his parts.” Vanille continued, “but there are a lot of things to fix still. Most of what I need’s been rusted through, and even his memory chips are just a skip away from breaking down completely. Just because he’s on now doesn’t mean he’s good as new!” Hope pushed away slightly from his desk, the wheels on his chair rolling easily on the smooth concrete as he turned his attentions entirely away from the computer he was working on. “Would you like me to help?” “If you’re not too busy,” Vanille demurred, although she was still smiling even as she brought Bhakti closer to herself in response to the robot’s mechanical pleading noises. “He has a good battery life still but if I don’t replace his memory soon, his personality might change entirely.” Hope paused at that. Personality? While he was familiar with the concept of robotic pets (especially seeing how logically it made the most sense to use such machines to test whether children were truly ready to care for their first animal since the robots would not attack or be hurt by overenthusiastic hugs, and would not die from lack of feeding or walking), he hadn’t realized that there was an entire personality programmed into them… or that the personality could change. “I also come with an invitation to Dajh’s birthday party next week.” Vanille told him, handing Bhakti over even as the robot beeped in protest at being treated like a package. It was heavier than Hope expected, and he held the robot at arms length away from himself as the machine made a strange whirring noise as it continued to scan the room. “Sazh said you weren’t picking up your phone when he tried to call, but I told him you never answered your phone during the mornings unless the calls are from Lightning.” “Err…” “Snow thinks it’s because you have a crush on her, by the way,” Vanille said cheerfully, looking rather amused as Hope cringed back and took Bhakti with him, his ears flushed pink. “I told him that he’d answer too if she were calling, but he said that was because he’d be afraid of her coming over just to hurt him if he didn’t.” “And it wouldn’t be the same for me?” Hope murmured under his breath, eyes wide at seeing Vanille so chipper and talkative. It was a rare sight, especially as the girl was normally so reserved despite her cheerfulness. “Dajh’s party is next Sunday, starting at noon.” She finished up, and then leaned over. “Bhakti seems to like you a lot.” “I’ll be sure to remember.” Hope confirmed, and then turned his attention back to the robot, who did indeed seem to be settling into Hope’s grasp. “You’ll have to talk me through this. I’m afraid my familiarity with old Pulse equipment is still rather lacking. Most items uncovered by excavations were far too rusted for us to make out, and I wouldn’t want to accidentally damage him.” When the Pulsian girl didn’t answer immediately, Hope glanced up to see her smiling gently at him, her hands clasped together behind herself in a familiar, yet a little sad, manner. “I can help.” She told him after a moment of studying him. “You sound so grown up, Hope.” He set the robot gently on the desk next to his work, and asked, “...Is that a bad thing?” He was still acclimating himself to his own thought processes; to the feeling of being a teenager with his thoughts wandering all in different directions to the random aches in his body to being unable to sit still for long periods of time… there were times when he was restless and didn’t know why, and long moments when he found himself worked up over nothing at all, when his careful moments of study were disrupted by… just about anything. And yet he wasn’t the same teenager, not when he now understood far more than he did previously at this physical age. There was a disparity between his thoughts and his actions at times, between the words he could remember and what actually came out of his mouth, between what he was supposed to do and what he wanted to do… Had it always been so distracting? He didn’t feel fifteen, and he didn’t feel twenty-seven. He felt… something in-between, maybe. Vanille shook her head. “It’s not. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” He wondered if she was disappointed. Hope wasn’t the same person that she must have remember, and he wasn’t the same person that anyone else would have remembered, either. He wondered if Serah and Noel, who had known him as an adult, were disappointed as well. It might have been months since he woke up back in the timeline, but the disparity was still striking in his mind. She must have noticed the expression on his face, because Vanille leaned over once again, although this time it was to tug lightly on a strand of his hair. “...You should start tying this back soon.” The change in topic was a welcome one. “I’ve been meaning to get it cut.” Hope admitted, blowing up against his bangs and then frowning as his hair settled right back in front of his eyes. The longer it got, the heavier it seemed to get as well. On the one hand, it was nice that his hair didn’t fluff up quite so much, but he wasn’t sure he liked that it stayed in front of his face. It was distracting, and tickled against the skin of his face. “Hmm.” Vanille agreed with him, and then brightened again. “I can cut it for you.” He peered up at her and caught her thoughtful expression. “Can you?” “Mm-hmm.” Vanille agreed as she threaded her fingers through his hair. “I help Fang with her hair, and I cut my own as well. It’s easier with long hair since you don’t need to see the back of your neck. Would you like me to trim it?” “Shorter than that.” Hope said, relaxing against her touch. “It’s been getting into my eyes.” “That’s what hair clips are for, you know,” she teased him, and smiled. Bhakti made a curious whirring noise, and she pulled back again. “How about this: you help me with Bhakti, and I’ll take care of your hair?” He didn’t need to tell her that he would have helped irregardless, and understood that it was also her way of telling him that she would have helped him irregardless as well. “Sure.” Hope responded, and smiled at her.

[traceylclark]

yasmine phoenix blog post, part two & crazy update

yasmine phoenix blog post, part two & crazy update

In my internet overload moment, I managed to tweet about Yasmine Phoenix’s blog, but forgot to slip in and update on my own blog… hmmm … anyone else seen the movie Multiplicity??? Right now I am seeing some definite benefits to doubling up on helping hands…

Since I’m on my own for now, I will do my best to catch up.. :P Starting with Ms. Phoenix’s blog… She asked a few more question, and we did…

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[taytaywrites-blog]

All set for camp NaNoWriMo... Can't wait to start writing!