Suikoden III - Chris and Wyatt
Aug. 30th, 2010 06:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lirillithTitle: Grief
Fandom: Suikoden III
Character: Chris
Length: 307 words
****
Her father's death was years behind her. Her mother's as well. She missed them, terribly sometimes, but she had to go on with her life and she'd been convinced she'd done so.
She'd been convinced, until the sight of her father's armor in a Karayan village and the tale of a Karayan boy returning the Lightfellow crest began to look like more than just coincidence. When she'd seen the armor she'd thought it was a trophy, kept by the man who'd killed him; the crest could have been the same, but she wondered, now. When a foreigner calling himself Nash appeared, when an oddly familiar Karayan fighter suggested she look for the Flame Champion, she wasn't prepared to write this off as bizarre happenstance any longer. Salome had understood almost eagerly when she made her first, hesitant suggestions about a search for her father; she realizes now he must have known. He must have been sworn to secrecy, because otherwise it was unlike him to keep it from her.
She'd thought she was moving on with her life. Her parents were an absence, a scar that ached sometimes, but she'd thought she'd grieved already. She hadn't been prepared for the flood of emotion when she found her father again, dying; when he passed the rune to her, and when she saw, briefly but vividly, how much it had hurt him to leave. Possibly more than it had hurt her at the time.
She's lost her father twice now. The rune he gave her governs all water, and she wonders if the rain now drumming on the deck of the ship, the lake outside, is her fault. She can think of very little except for him, the memories she glimpsed briefly and her own, nearly drowned out by his versions of the same. But her eyes are dry.
Fandom: Suikoden III
Character: Chris
Length: 307 words
****
Her father's death was years behind her. Her mother's as well. She missed them, terribly sometimes, but she had to go on with her life and she'd been convinced she'd done so.
She'd been convinced, until the sight of her father's armor in a Karayan village and the tale of a Karayan boy returning the Lightfellow crest began to look like more than just coincidence. When she'd seen the armor she'd thought it was a trophy, kept by the man who'd killed him; the crest could have been the same, but she wondered, now. When a foreigner calling himself Nash appeared, when an oddly familiar Karayan fighter suggested she look for the Flame Champion, she wasn't prepared to write this off as bizarre happenstance any longer. Salome had understood almost eagerly when she made her first, hesitant suggestions about a search for her father; she realizes now he must have known. He must have been sworn to secrecy, because otherwise it was unlike him to keep it from her.
She'd thought she was moving on with her life. Her parents were an absence, a scar that ached sometimes, but she'd thought she'd grieved already. She hadn't been prepared for the flood of emotion when she found her father again, dying; when he passed the rune to her, and when she saw, briefly but vividly, how much it had hurt him to leave. Possibly more than it had hurt her at the time.
She's lost her father twice now. The rune he gave her governs all water, and she wonders if the rain now drumming on the deck of the ship, the lake outside, is her fault. She can think of very little except for him, the memories she glimpsed briefly and her own, nearly drowned out by his versions of the same. But her eyes are dry.
