Setting: FFX, after Zanarkand
Theme + Number: Fascination #37
Summary: Auron questions Lulu's macabre obsession.
Weary and sated, Lulu nestled her cheek against the warrior's chest, a fierce smile flickering across her features.
Auron sighed. "Lulu."
Without a word, he braced his arm behind her shoulders and turned onto his side, clanking against the bulkhead. Sometimes she wished they would give in, admit their secret, and ask Cid for a cabin with a wider bunk. But that would mean having to define the nature of this strange conjunction of Venus and Mars.
"Auron?" Her fingers drifted across his cheek. "What's wrong?"
"You were listening again." His rumble was half amused, half irritated. "Do you think it will stop when I'm not paying attention?"
"It's magic I can't grasp." She paused. "That troubles you?"
Once she would have respected his rasp of breath and stony silence, but she was becoming painfully aware of time running out. She tipped up her chin and fixed him with a steely glance made sterner by the flicker of the lamp's flame.
Auron gave a sour chuckle. "You've loved the dead too long, Lulu. If I were... an ordinary man... would you still have me?"
Lulu drew a sharp breath. "No!" she snapped irritably.
He snorted. "As I suspected."
"But you were never ordinary, Sir Auron," she admonished. "I remember the stories."
"You know better than to believe everything you hear." That dry smirk had probably been one of the reasons for his troubles as a monk. "I was naive. Earnest. A fighter. Devoted to Yevon. Remind you of anyone else in our party? You would have had no more patience with me."
"Oh, Auron." With a sigh, she drew her fingertips down the side of his neck and lower, brushing the hollow of his breastbone. "Perhaps. I can't deny that I find the power that keeps you with us... fascinating." Her eyes flicked upwards. "But when I listen to your heart, I hear your story, one the temples do not tell. Loyalty. Courage. Defiance. Desperation. One who refused to yield. One who loved the dead enough to deny his own rest, until he could fulfill oaths to them." She brushed her lips against his jaw. "That is who you always were, and not Yevon nor Yunalesca nor death itself can touch it."
The stories also did not tell that a man who should not even be breathing could kiss fiercely enough to steal one's breath away, Lulu noted smugly.