Grazing The Sky

Time had no meaning. It passed by them like a blur, days fading to nights, with nothing changing. Lance stayed down, almost feeling like he was part of the ground. Flat. Useless. Nothing but someone else's path.

Why?

Why had Yowlitch done it?

Why hadn't they seen it coming?

He knew the answers to both, one clearer than the other. Yowlitch had done it purely because he could; he'd done it because they were nothing, but pawns. Amus.e.m.e.nt. They were so weak, so incredibly desperate. It was the same as teasing someone dying in the desert with a drop of water, hovering inches above their outstretched tongue.

They'd been desperate, which was also his answer to the second question. Again, they'd been blind, but the more Lance traced back, the more everything made sense. He had been a pawn, from the very beginning.

It hurt. Lance had long past felt angry. If Yowlitch were right in front of him, it'd be a different story. He felt the muscles of his fingers twitch, wanting to curl into a fist. He would need much more than one punch to express himself...

But the only thing in front of Lance was blue sky. He stared at the colors, shades subtly fading into one another, and a phrase came to him.

The sky's the limit.

The limit of what? What's possible? No, if he was applying this to what'd happened, then the sky was everything they'd wanted to obtain. It symbolized everything they'd wanted to reach, everything they'd hoped of having. And they'd touched it, fingertips barely grazing that expanse of blue.

His muscles were sore, stiff from not having moved in what felt like days. He barely acknowledged the pain, raising his arm to the sky, letting his fingertips strain at the memory of the vial just grazing against the tip of his finger.

He'd almost had it.

They'd been so close.

But the sky rested behind his hand, taunting him with its distance.

Impossible.

Lance dropped his arm back against the grass, the impact causing the limb to bounce once. He was numb to the feeling. He only stared up at that blue sky wondering how much longer they would last. Wondering if this emptiness that now made up his existence would ever go away.

He stared up at the sky, knowing that no matter what—no matter how hard they tried—they'd never touch that expanse of blue.

__________________

Zidane sat underneath the shady oak tree, hearing birds chirp around him and Zooka. She remained nestled against him, enjoying the garden's light breeze. A place he'd built with Yittek years back, a sanctuary for Zooka and him.

Zidane closed his eyes. Would he ever go back, face reality with Lance? Or would he stay like this, condemned to the most perfect of hells?

He cleared his throat, quietly, skillfully preparing to speak.

Overhead, the shadows swayed against the light.

His eyes closed, seeing the darkness gently move against the sunlight above.

"Zoo..."

He felt her move, turning to look up at him.

"Yeah?"

"There's..." The grip on her hand tightened; a gentle security for both of them.

She'll be with me no matter what. I know she will.

He swallowed again, feeling his throat tighten.

That's the problem...

"There's something I need to tell you."

"Oh, really?" Zooka tilted her head back, looking up towards the tree above. "There's something I need to tell you, too."

"What is it?"

She grinned, tapping her feet together. "I love you."

Dammit.

He just held her a little tighter, quietly returning the phrase against her hair. Squeezing her hand a bit firmer.

I can't do this. I can't tell her.

"What is it you wanted to tell me?"

I hate myself. Let's start with that.

The sound of tiny wings beating came into hearing. A sad sorrow-happiness entered Zidane's heart, feeling Zooka's light spike in excitement.

A large dragonfly zipped up to her. She laughed a little, grinning as a hand gingerly extended, the dragonfly lowering onto her fingers.

Zidane felt her elation, a rise within his own glowing happiness. He leaned forward, kissing the back of her hair, lowering to worship the curve of her neck and shoulder. She laughed again, fuller this time, the grin spreading across Zidane's face probably adding to the amus.e.m.e.nt.

He couldn't ruin this mood...

He couldn't ruin her life...

I need to leave...

A pressure settled against the right-corner of his head. A telepathatic communication, but the energy was dark. Like a crimson-red.

Arzo?

Tentatively, he answered it. Yeah?

"Teleport me to where you are. We have work to discuss."

Work? Zidane repeated, the thought too low for the Spiro to hear. What work? I finished my rounds last week...

A fear was building, creeping up from somewhere deep within his mind.

Zidane, Arzo said, voice uncharacteristically gentle. I won't hurt you.

"Are you okay?"

He looked down, meeting Zooka's eyes. Quickly, he nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah," he said. "I'm alright. Just a little tired."

Understatement of the year...

Zooka smiled, nestling against him and holding her hands in her l.a.p.

"Get some rest then, okay?"

I can't.

"Okay." He leaned over, pecking the top of her head and watching her grin. An expression similar to hers made its way onto his face, just seeing that...

"Will you send me over or is this another lesson, Zidane?"

Alarm buzzing into him, Zidane quickly replied. No, I'll send you over now. Don't worry about it.

Without thinking, he let out a breath. Just step through the nearest wall. It'll send you to where I am.

In the next moment, Arzo walked out of a tree, a few other Spiros accompanying him. It was strange, seeing him again after showing so many memories to Lance. Arzo had grown older, a tiredness gently touching his eyes. A bump was on the bridge of his nose.

Zidane slowly flexed his foot, remembering the way it had felt slamming against Arzo's face. He remembered how his leg had twisted in retaliation, knee separating from shin and t.h.i.g.h. The initial statement still rang out in Zidane's head.

How long before your blood is tainted completely?

Arzo looked back, blood-red eyes meeting Zidane's dark ones. The Spiro's gaze narrowed, sweeping to the right, natural scowl deepening upon seeing Zooka.

Zidane took her hand in his, running his thumb over the back of her hand. She was safe; she couldn't ever forget that.

He noticed a twitch of Arzo's hand, and every muscle tensed. But no knife shot out; instead, the three Spiros behind him separated, parting away and beginning to scope the forest. Zidane watched them closely before his attention was brought back to Arzo.

The Spiro stepped forward, dark stare on Zooka. Zidane stepped partially in front of her, glaring slightly.

"What is it?" he asked.