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green_animationTitle: The opening and exit lines of a leading man. (or, Ffamran's end to Balthier's beginning.)
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Angst
Characters/Pairings: Balthier, Ffamran
Rating: T to be safe.
Another Balthier fic; this was a personal challenge I set for myself; the ABC challenge.
All that he wanted was the horizon. Balthier could bring him that. Could bring him as near as he could get to it - take him so close that he could see his breath misting across the sky. Don't ever look back and burn all of the bridges that ever fucking meant anything - not that there were that many to begin with. Every single one of his bridges was burnt to ash now, good, you are no longer a boy in your father's shadow, and you never will be again.
Ffamran? Gone, left in the charred ruins of the past. Hours slick out behind the trail of your stolen ship and Balthier comes to life, wrapping fingers aeons ago, it seems, belonged to Ffamran, that paper persona.
In the sky Balthier runs from anything, everything, and why did no-one tell him that fleeing feels so much better than some empty concept of Archadian honour? Jaded Imperials guarding street corners, menacing fallen empires, even fighting in the front line could never feel like this Balthier takes the first few breaths of his life and feels infinite.
Kinder men would have turned away when he strode by them, eyes smoldering, words echoing in the hollow emptiness of his chest - but in Rabanastre empty stares reflect his own in faces of children young enough to be his children, but old enough to be the Gran Kiltias in their cynicism.
Leniency has never really taken root in his ethos, so when he happens across a Rabanastre-rat grasping clumsily at his prize, he is somewhat unnerved that he does not simply push the grubby boy into the arms of the Imperials massing around them. Much later he realizes that had he done so it would have been a step too near to becoming his father.
Needless to say he thanked the fates when he realized this - Vaan was a preventative - he drew Balthier away from the legacy of inherent coldness pro-offered by the most honoured house of Bunansa. Of course the others helped - Penelo, Bash and Ashe - truly Fran was the first but her Vieran blood on occasion ran as cold as his.
Pirates have to be able to judge value in whatever measure they can glean it; the price of a wedding ring may rate pretty low in gil, but the look in the princess' eyes made it worth a kingdom. Questing for a kingdom or queendom as the case may eventually be, however, will ultimately be worth the Strahl's weight in gil. Really, it's not about the money, though few of the group would believe that; Balthier has had enough gil, enough luxury in his lifetime to know the actual utter uselessness of it; it isn't for the gil he steals, it's for the adrenaline pulsing through him, the darling decadence of 'Carpe Diem' that shoots through his mind as they dodge airships and Imperials.
So, for his own addiction, he supports them - selling them out wouldn't be nearly as much fun, would it now? That, and the fact that he might actually get reabsorbed into the virulent mass of Archadian 'honour'(cue bitter laughter from the leading man, act five line four) should he choose to dispose of this new and most heinous threat.
Unfortunately, inevitably, he runs into his damnable father once again and thus nearly gets sucked back in anyways. Virtually drained to the point of senselessness, which is really more of Vaan's forte, he forgets to keep up his normal biting veneer of sarcasm. Which leads, of course, to soft white hands on the crook of his elbow and the curve of his cheek asking his health continually and their words start to echo - Vaan and Basch notice not and Fran has known long enough to silence her concern - how do the other two even notice?
X-ray vision is what Balthier would suspect if he thought it plausible - women see through every second you do not guard yourself, do not pull your act tightly over your shoulders. You have to lace the act tighter than a gentlewoman's corset, so you are almost stifled, but you are safe in your head, who cares what you have to deny to keep them at bay? Zombie-like Balthier realizes that he is starting to sound like Ffamran again, before he left, so he carries on running towards the horizon feverishly.
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Angst
Characters/Pairings: Balthier, Ffamran
Rating: T to be safe.
Another Balthier fic; this was a personal challenge I set for myself; the ABC challenge.
All that he wanted was the horizon. Balthier could bring him that. Could bring him as near as he could get to it - take him so close that he could see his breath misting across the sky. Don't ever look back and burn all of the bridges that ever fucking meant anything - not that there were that many to begin with. Every single one of his bridges was burnt to ash now, good, you are no longer a boy in your father's shadow, and you never will be again.
Ffamran? Gone, left in the charred ruins of the past. Hours slick out behind the trail of your stolen ship and Balthier comes to life, wrapping fingers aeons ago, it seems, belonged to Ffamran, that paper persona.
In the sky Balthier runs from anything, everything, and why did no-one tell him that fleeing feels so much better than some empty concept of Archadian honour? Jaded Imperials guarding street corners, menacing fallen empires, even fighting in the front line could never feel like this Balthier takes the first few breaths of his life and feels infinite.
Kinder men would have turned away when he strode by them, eyes smoldering, words echoing in the hollow emptiness of his chest - but in Rabanastre empty stares reflect his own in faces of children young enough to be his children, but old enough to be the Gran Kiltias in their cynicism.
Leniency has never really taken root in his ethos, so when he happens across a Rabanastre-rat grasping clumsily at his prize, he is somewhat unnerved that he does not simply push the grubby boy into the arms of the Imperials massing around them. Much later he realizes that had he done so it would have been a step too near to becoming his father.
Needless to say he thanked the fates when he realized this - Vaan was a preventative - he drew Balthier away from the legacy of inherent coldness pro-offered by the most honoured house of Bunansa. Of course the others helped - Penelo, Bash and Ashe - truly Fran was the first but her Vieran blood on occasion ran as cold as his.
Pirates have to be able to judge value in whatever measure they can glean it; the price of a wedding ring may rate pretty low in gil, but the look in the princess' eyes made it worth a kingdom. Questing for a kingdom or queendom as the case may eventually be, however, will ultimately be worth the Strahl's weight in gil. Really, it's not about the money, though few of the group would believe that; Balthier has had enough gil, enough luxury in his lifetime to know the actual utter uselessness of it; it isn't for the gil he steals, it's for the adrenaline pulsing through him, the darling decadence of 'Carpe Diem' that shoots through his mind as they dodge airships and Imperials.
So, for his own addiction, he supports them - selling them out wouldn't be nearly as much fun, would it now? That, and the fact that he might actually get reabsorbed into the virulent mass of Archadian 'honour'(cue bitter laughter from the leading man, act five line four) should he choose to dispose of this new and most heinous threat.
Unfortunately, inevitably, he runs into his damnable father once again and thus nearly gets sucked back in anyways. Virtually drained to the point of senselessness, which is really more of Vaan's forte, he forgets to keep up his normal biting veneer of sarcasm. Which leads, of course, to soft white hands on the crook of his elbow and the curve of his cheek asking his health continually and their words start to echo - Vaan and Basch notice not and Fran has known long enough to silence her concern - how do the other two even notice?
X-ray vision is what Balthier would suspect if he thought it plausible - women see through every second you do not guard yourself, do not pull your act tightly over your shoulders. You have to lace the act tighter than a gentlewoman's corset, so you are almost stifled, but you are safe in your head, who cares what you have to deny to keep them at bay? Zombie-like Balthier realizes that he is starting to sound like Ffamran again, before he left, so he carries on running towards the horizon feverishly.
