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year 5, quarter 3
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He hated the wilderness as much as he hated justice and honesty and the conversation of idiots. In fact, if he could have ranked everything he hated, being lost in the wilderness would have ranked only just above incompetence and just below Zidane.
Kuja scowled as he shoved another spider web from his face, swatting flies with every loathsome step. These woods were untamed. Evil, actually if one were to believe in such a word. In all reality, the life here had been corrupted by some particularly hateful souls. It seeped into the flora, the fauna, and the very earth, and the rest overflowed into a chilling fog. Or should he say Mist? He had quite the experience resisting and harnessing the Mist, but that didn’t mean he had to enjoy it.
Ultimecia. The word soured like something profane. He could still see her shadow flickering in hideous detail. Those yellowed eyes, her lips red as blood, her talons biting into his throat. He’d submitted as a matter of survival -- what good would fighting have done him? -- but sheer power would have bought her little loyalty. No, her words that had done that.
What would he do to not be bound by time? Anything.
A marsh opened before him with the noxious smell of mud and fetid water. There was light here shifting in sickly rays through the Mist, spotlighting the shadows of trees rising from the bog like pillars. Frogs rumbled a bass tone punctuated by the constant whine of mosquitoes. He eyed the odious things from his makeshift path, careful to watch his step lest he make acquaintance with the putrid water.
And then he saw it.
It stood like a wraith in the darkness. Black metal. A heart pulsing red. Kuja stopped, stumbling back on instinct as the word reached his lips. ”Garland?”
The shock passed in an instant. It was him as clear bog itself, but it was nothing more than a trick of the Mist. The forest's illusions. He laughed lightly, composing himself with his lips pressed to the back of his hand. ”I’d wondered when you’d play that pawn. I was almost growing impatient.”
The wraith stared back at him -- unphased. Quite the convincing act, Garland had never been capable of more expression than mild disappointment. Kuja’s tail bristled at that face, hard and stern and oh so familiar. And then it flickered away.
He knew what would happen an instant before he heard it. The rustle of a cape furling behind him. He stiffened at its presence. It was nothing more than a projection pulled from the depths of his mind. So long as he stayed calm, it couldn’t hurt him.
”Back so soon from the dead?” Kuja’s lips shadowed with a smile. ”My, but how did you fall again? I so wish I could remember.”
Silence. Kuja’s lips pursed. ”Nothing to say?”
Its voice came like a demon, cool and rasping. ”You’ve served another master.”
Kuja prepared to snap back, but stopped, blinking. He laughed louder than ever. ”Jealous?” he sneered. ”That isn’t like you.”
Metallic footsteps clinked behind him. The wraith circled him, drifting to the path’s edge. ”Satisfied.” It didn’t look at him. ”You were created to serve. It is your purpose.”
”You think I’m her puppet?” His eyebrows raised, and he laughed again, mocking this time. ”I’ll have her kneeling just as I had you.”
”A defect.” Garland thrust his cape aside and turned, stalking before him. He did not deign him worth a glance. ”You knew nothing on your own. You long only for subjugation.”
Kuja’s nails dug into his palm. ”I long for her magic.”
“You will always return.” He turned then. Finally, he turned and met Kuja’s eye. Dead and milky white on cold blue. ”You can do nothing else.”
Kuja felt his lips pull into a sneer. He felt words rise as his pulse quickened, but he stopped himself before they could surface. Instead, he smiled, tilted his head, and touched his chin to the back of his hand. ”Flare.”
Magic. Heat. Light. The force of his spell exploded before him in successive bursts. The force of it thrust against him, rustling his skirt and hair in its aftershock. Kuja raised a hand against it, eyes bright with the fire that scattered Garland like mist. How satisfying. Perhaps he couldn’t remember the man’s murder, but how kind it was that the forest sought to simulate it for him. He brought magic to his hand again for good measure.
”Flare.” He cast it farther now, splintering a distant tree with its force. He sneered and turned again. ”Flare!” The fog went up in flame. It fled before his magic like something alive and terrified, and Kuja smirked after it, breath sparked and heavy. ”Would you like to try that again?” Kuja didn’t know if the forest could hear him. He didn’t know if the souls were capable of conscious thought, but it felt good to call after it, voice chiming with muffled laughter.
The forest was calmer than Yuna had expected with all the rumors that had been swirling around it. It was almost pretty with the sunlight filtering through the leaves around her, and she admired the plants on either side of her as she carefully moved along the path with her staff clutched in both hands and a bag thrown over her shoulder. The earthen smell reminded her of home and the neighboring island of Kilika, and the quiet solitude was honestly exactly what she needed right now. She had wanted to get away from Torensten. From the Dragonblades. From all people, really. After what she’d learned from Declan, she had thought that the long trip back to the Crystallus Divider would do her some good. The towering wall might have been covered in tourists, but it seemed like the best place to do a lot of praying and thinking.
Yuna wasn’t sure how well she could pray anymore unless it was at a holy site.
The forest path was long and winding, but Yuna didn’t mind so much until the fog started rolling in after a few hours. She was deep in the trees at this point, and she eyed the change in scenery carefully as she kept moving forward. This forest was said to prey on your deepest fears to lead you astray, but she had been fairly confident that she’d be alright alone as long as she stayed on the path. Still, the figure blocking the road as she rounded the corner was far from what she had expected.
Yuna took a step back, one hand raising to her mouth as she stared at the doppelganger in front of her. The woman looked like her, but this Yuna stood a little taller, and she was clothed in a revealing pink and white outfit that would have made Yuna blush to be seen in public in. She had a small machina weapon clutched in one hand, and she stood with one hip cocked to the side, a confident smile lighting up her face. Her hair was down to her calves—Yuna noted with a numb sort of detachment—but it wasn’t immediately apparent because most of the hair was covered in a tight, red wrap except for the portion that was cut to her shoulders. How much older was this Yuna than her?
“Why are you so worried?” The woman asked with a laugh, and Yuna was met with the uncomfortable sensation that she was hearing her own voice. “Who cares if you made the wrong choice! Spira’s future isn’t your problem anymore. You should just do whatever you want to. It’s way more fun!”
Yuna’s fingers clenched tighter around her staff, and she couldn’t decide if she felt pity or jealousy towards the carefree thing in front of her. “…I’m worried…I’m worried because what I want to do is to ensure Spira’s future,” she said tightly while raising her chin. “You should know that better than anyone.”
“Silly.” The other Yuna blew some imaginary smoke off the tip of her gun before striking a pose with the weapon out to the side. “You can make whatever choices you want. But you’ll always end up as me.”
Yuna let out a slow breath before forcing her legs to move. Walking forward, she swept through the fog, dispersing the image of herself as she went. Behind her, she heard the swirl of magic as the illusion reformed, so she was expecting to hear words called after her. She wasn’t expecting the sudden male voice, however.
“Aw, why the long face?” The voice practically dripped in mockery, and Yuna felt her blood run cold even if consciously, she knew it had to be another fake. Whirling around, she met the yellow eyes of the man who had haunted most of her nightmares since coming to Zephon. He shot her a wink even as black liquid leaked from his eyes, and Yuna did her best to catch her breath. “Ardyn…”
“You don’t know how happy I was to hear that you ravaged your world nearly as much as I did mine. How many do you think you displaced after you killed your priests and your aeons? Such disregard for anything but yourself.” He pressed a dramatic hand to his chest as she stared at him in quiet horror. “Why, you’re just like me.”
Something hot pricked at Yuna, and she was shouting at the apparition before she knew it. “I am nothing like you! Nothing!” The words echoed around them for a moment before a sudden crash from deeper in the forest made Yuna whip her head around to stare into the trees. It almost sounded like a magical blast, and after a second one joined the first, Yuna turned her back on the fake Ardyn and plunged off the path without a second thought. Someone was in trouble, and that came before the safety of the path.
Yuna raced through the trees, heedless of the mud that flicked onto her shoes and the lower part of her skirt. No more sounds came, and for a moment, Yuna was afraid that she’d lost the source, but then a voice echoed to her right. “Flare!”
The spell was so close this time that she felt the heat as she changed her course to burst through a circle of trees into a low marsh. She quickly swept her eyes around to take in the scene—a woman with lilac-tinted hair stood with her back to Yuna, facing down the same sort of mist that had plagued her along the path. The woman called out to it jeeringly in a surprisingly low voice, and while she didn’t sound very nice, Yuna could hardly blame her for that. She didn’t know what illusions the forest had shown her after all.
Faced with a spirit that was plaguing someone else, Yuna saw the obvious answer that she had failed to see when it was her own visions. Dropping her bag at her feet, she spun to the side, letting her staff and skirts twirl around her until she lowered her staff in front of her, letting out a breath as the fog trembled before dispersing into the air.
“Go in peace,” she murmured, before turning her attention to the person she was now alone in the marsh with. From this close up, Yuna saw that she had been mistaken. The shape of his jaw marked the person as male, and she was pleased to see that his attire wouldn’t have been out of place in Spira. It made her feel a little homesick, but she quickly pushed that away by clasping her staff down at her waist and giving the stranger a deep bow.
“I’m so sorry to barge in. I heard your magic, but you must have had it under control. You’re…a very talented black mage. Flare isn’t easy to learn.” Even Lulu hadn’t fully mastered it yet, so Yuna gave the man a small smile as she straightened up. “I’m Yuna. I’ve been…dealing with the fiends here as well.”
A strange magic touched him. At first, Kuja couldn’t say its origin nor could he define its purpose. It was gentle, he thought. It touched him with an almost soothing voice, and he felt his soul stir at its call. The Mist dissipated just as quickly, and with it that insufferable sense of suffocation. Kuja paused, head half tilted in thought, before he heard the sounds of something stirring behind him. He brought sparks of magic to his fingers as he turned to face it.
A girl. Kuja nearly recoiled in surprise. He had no idea what a girl was doing this far into the forest alone. How had she even survived? Still, she danced before him, spinning a mage’s staff before her as she twirled light on her feet. She wore draping silks and beaded jewelry that clicked with her movement and the spin of her dress. Kuja brought a finger to his lips, eyes sharp with interest.
Was this her magic? How interesting…
She said nothing until the Mist had fled and the forest was quiet once more. With that, she muttered something and finally turned her attention to him. Strangely, she didn’t seem surprised to see him. Her eyes didn’t dart from his clothes to his hair to his face, expression wavering with doubt. Instead, she looked at him straight on and apologized.
”I’m so sorry to barge in,” she said as though she were some uninvited guest in his home. ”I heard your magic, but you must have had it under control. You’re a very talented black mage. Flare isn’t easy to learn.”
Kuja’s lips twitched with a smirk. So she’d seen his spells. Would she recognize him as a threat? Her life was in her hands.
He spread out an arm, head tilted in a kind of half bow. It was almost instinctual upon meeting a stranger with such a careful demeanor. He’d spent too long among the nobility. ”Kuja,” he said. ”A pleasure.”
He smirked dryly, crossing his arms. There was, in fact, nothing pleasurable about this dark and miserable place. It was corrupted. Distasteful. Every second he spent within was an offense. ”What was that spell?” he asked. ”It warded away the will of the dead. I’ve never heard of anything like it.” A remarkable feat given his endless study into the records of both Terra and Gaia alike. Despite his situation, his own ignorance pricked at him like an irritable fly.
”Did you come alone? The forest has a way of leading the innocent astray.”
The man’s lips twitched slightly, and Yuna wondered if something that she’d said was funny to him. Before she could ask, he dropped into a slight bow as he introduced himself, and Yuna felt herself brighten a bit at the motion. No one had really reciprocated that type of greeting since she’d come to Zephon yet, so between this man’s clothing and his mannerisms, she was instantly reminded of home. “Nice to meet you, Kuja. Circumstances aside,” she added with a faint smile. Yuna always tried to be genuine when saying that, but she found that she didn’t have to try very hard this time. She was genuinely interested in this mysterious expert of a black mage.
Kuja asked about the spell that she’d used to drive away the spirits that had been plaguing him, and Yuna felt her cheeks flush slightly as she lowered her staff down to her side. There were no threats here anymore, after all. “You’re right. It’s called a sending.” Kuja must have been sharp to pick up what the ritual did without having seen it before. Yuna had to be impressed, even if part of her disliked having it described as taking away the will of the dead. She preferred to think of it as helping them to find peace.
“Where I’m from…the souls of the dead can’t move on without help. But if they stay among the living long enough, then they’ll turn into fiends. One of the jobs of a summoner is to make sure that doesn’t happen by performing the sending.” The less important of their two jobs honestly, but Yuna didn’t need to burden a stranger with her troubles about Sin, so she cut herself off after answering his question.
”Did you come alone? The forest has a way of leading the innocent astray.”
Yuna couldn’t help a slight smile at the double standard that he seemed to have missed. “You’re alone. Are you not?” She meant the question more teasingly than anything—with spells like Flare, he was probably more than capable of handling some fiends—so she continued on after a moment. “I appreciate your concern, truly. I did mean to stay on the path, but…well…” Yuna cast a slightly uncertain glance over her shoulder. She wasn’t entirely sure of how far into the trees she’d run after she’d heard Kuja’s magic, but it might not matter anyway. With everything that she’d heard about the forest, Yuna suspected that she might be more likely to find the path again by walking in the complete opposite direction.
“I’m…sure I’ll manage.” It would have been selfish to ask him for help, after all. She didn’t even know what Kuja was doing here, though maybe he was lost too if he was this far out. It couldn’t hurt to check at least. It somehow felt less pathetic relying on a stranger if she wasn't the only one who wanted to stick together.
“What about you? You’re pretty deep in the forest yourself.” She hoped it at least alluded to what she was too polite to actually ask.
A sending. Kuja had never heard of it. Unsurprising given the nature of his situation, yet it sparked questions all its own. Were the skills of mages all preserved in the transfer between dimensional space? It seemed strange to think of a world more advanced in the magical arts than Terra, but he supposed advanced was the wrong word for it. Different. Evolving under unique circumstances. How could the skill be put to use on Gaia?
A spell that could banish the Mist. How intriguing.
His eyes pricked with intellectual fervor. Souls that couldn’t join the cycle, spirits turning into fiends, and…
”You’re a summoner?” He felt the cogs of his mind churn faster. The power of summoners were as formidable as they were mysterious. He supposed that came with the territory -- being razed from existence after all. Very little knowledge of their practices remained just as Garland had intended. Could it be that they’d developed a magic he’d never so much as touched?
Damn Garland and his orders of genocide! He hadn’t even had the chance to properly study them.
”You’re alone. Are you not?”
Kuja smiled mysteriously. ”I am.” She’d meant it as a joke or perhaps a contradiction. He’d known perfectly well what he’d said. There was no circumstance under which he would have called himself innocent.
”I found myself a victim of unfortunate circumstances. Perpetuated by company I’d rather not keep.” He couldn’t tell which he’d loathe more. Being abandoned in the middle of a haunted forest or spending even one more second in the witch’s company. He supposed the former afforded him free use of his tongue.
He angled his head thoughtfully. ”But I don’t mind traveling together. I happen to know a path back to civilization. Or an approximate of it at any rate.” As far as choosing a direction and keeping it could take him. The forest’s center still pricked at the back of his neck. The more distance he could put between himself and the obelisk the better.
He pushed his hair back with a hand. ”I’ve never heard of a sending,” he said. ”Souls in my world linger long beyond their death, coalescing into something not so different from this Mist.” He gestured towards the forest around them and the newly cleansed atmosphere. The forest felt somehow lighter without its fog. He thought he heard the distant trills of birdsong.
”I’m a scholar of sorts as well as a practiced mage. The Mist has incited violence and spawned monsters for the length of Gaia’s written history. A method to dispel it could prove revolutionary." He touched at his lips, smiling faintly. "If you would teach it to me.”
To Yuna’s surprise, Kuja’s eyes lit with something like understanding at her explanation. She couldn’t often say that she could see the gears in someone’s mind literally turning, but the silver-haired man looked as if he were just itching to take notes. His passion reminded her a bit of Maechen, though Kuja’s knowledge seemed to be in magic rather than history.
“Really? You know what a summoner is?” Yuna was taken aback, since the other people on Zephon that she’d met had always required an explanation. Between the man’s clothes and his breadth of knowledge, she almost would have thought that he came from Spira itself, but that couldn’t be the case. Otherwise he would have known at a glance what a sending was. “Do you know of any others here?”
Yuna frowned slightly at Kuja’s explanation of how he’d come to end up alone in the middle of the forest. He was vague about the details, but she didn’t find that to be too suspicious when she was a near stranger. Maybe he was just being careful. “I’m glad you got away from them at any rate…Are you hurt at all?” She didn’t think he had any wounds--he was showing quite a bit of skin after all--but it still seemed polite to ask.
Truthfully, she hadn’t expected that he would offer to travel together. Yuna had been secretly hoping to journey at least back to the path with him, so her head perked up a bit at the offer. Kuja was either very perceptive, or he didn’t relish the thought of wandering alone in the woods either. “I don’t want to impose, but if you wouldn’t mind the company, then I’d be happy to. Thank you.” Curling her hands together in the traditional Yevon prayer, she dipped into a small bow of thanks.
Afterward, Yuna tilted her head slightly to the side as she considered his explanation of how souls worked on his world. “I’ve never heard it described as mist before,” she murmured, bringing one hand up to her chin thoughtfully. “But if there’s no one on your world to send them on, then I suppose it makes complete sense that they would be so concentrated together. That must be incredibly dangerous to encounter…”
She wasn’t surprised to hear that Kuja was a scholar or a mage--she’d already seen his prowess in both--but it was his request to be taught that caused her cheeks to flush scarlet. “You want to learn the sending?” She’d had teachers herself of course--countless priests had mentored her in the ways of Yevon and white magic--but she had never expected to pass on any of that knowledge herself. She’d never expected to live long enough.
“Back home, I suppose they’d call it blasphemous to teach someone who isn’t an apprentice summoner,” she said with a slight smile as she considered the possibility. “But if this could help people on your world one day, then I would gladly show you the theory, Kuja.” She hesitated slightly before deciding to warn him about one caveat. “But it might not work to its full potency unless an aeon grants you its power.” Truthfully, she didn’t know how well someone who wasn’t a summoner could perform the ritual, but Kuja was a good enough mage that it was worth a try if he was interested.
Summoners? Kuja smirked faintly. The girl was either from a different, but similar world (or perhaps dimension?) or from a time in Gaia’s history when the question wasn’t ludicrous. Had he met any others? ”I haven’t.” Not since he’d left the last two survivors in Zidane’s care. Not since he’d killed the rest.
He wasn’t harmed either, and he said as much. The forest hadn’t touched him after all. Its ploy on his mind had been crafted with all the delicacy of a blunt hammer.
And how would he have done it better? He would have added more of an atmosphere for one. The Mist was all fine and well, but it lost its edge for one already accustomed to it. The paths were obscured, certainly, but that was all it had. The forest needed flair. It needed a more specialized sense of torment, and most of all, it needed subtlety.
The thought wove itself around his finger like silk. He would muse on it for some time he thought. It was a way to busy himself.
Kuja’s eyes flicked back to the summoner. Never heard of Mist? She wasn’t from Gaia then -- or at least not any Gaia within known history. Strange than another dimensional variant would be plagued by lost souls given the circumstances. He wondered why. What would block them from returning to the cycle? Could another planet have interfered?
He would have very much like to have met these variant intruders. It was unlikely that Terra was the only dying planet to ever think of the idea.
”Dangerous? In a sense.” Kuja tilted his head to the side. ”The entirety of Gaian history has been shaped by it. Given time, Mist incites a madness that leads nations to perpetual war.” A most useful side effect given the Soul Divider’s ultimate purpose. If the Gaians hadn’t found a way around it. ”The lowlands are completely uninhabitable. Only the cities that can stand above the Mist survive. There has been peace with the advent of airship travel, but it is fragile.” Fragile and oh so easy to break. A few sweet whispers, and it had shattered like stained glass.
”Blasphemous?” Kuja raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t dealt much with religion in truth. The idea was foreign to him. ”It would be appreciated.” He fought the urge to laugh behind his hand. To help people on his world. He supposed it was true in a sense. Given the ambiguity of “his world,” almost anything could be justified one way or another.
”I'd like to learn the theory at least. I find it fascinating.” For the first time in the conversation, it wasn’t a lie. His eyes lit with an undying interest. He doubted there was a magic that he couldn’t learn, but simply knowing was a start. The very idea that he could have missed some essential essence of souls of all things needled him endlessly. Could he put the knowledge to use? Maybe. Maybe not, but he’d found even the most useless of facts to come into play in unexpected ways. If nothing else, he could record it for…
Himself? That was enough.
”By aeon, I assume you mean an eidolon?” His eyes drifted to the forest. ”They're said to be powerful spirits of the planet. They’re mere legends now, but they were once called forth by summoners.” He flipped his hair over his shoulder. ”Shall we move on?” he said. ”There’s no use waiting for the Mist’s return.”
He started forward without waiting for her answer. She would follow. She really had no choice, did she?
”Tell me of your sending then.” He looked up thoughtfully at the forest’s gnarled branches. They were hideous. ”Fiends, summoners, aeons, and this faith you would blaspheme. I want to hear everything.”
Yuna was disappointed but not at all surprised that Kuja hadn’t seen any other summoners while he’d been on Zephon. From how he spoke of his world, she very much doubted that he was from Spira anyway, but she would have welcomed meeting someone who was his version of summoner as well. It would have been interesting to compare the differences.
At her request, Kuja expanded on how the mist affected his world, and she was taken aback by the description of how the mass of souls would incite people to war and madness. Was it possible for the unsent to affect the actions of the living that much? Yuna had never heard of anything like that before, but if his world was saturated with souls, then she supposed that anything was possible. It just solidified in her mind how necessary the sending was. She never wanted Spira to reach that point. Not when it had enough to deal with.
“A world entirely in the sky by necessity, with a blanket of mist below,” she murmured, glancing up at the sunlight filtering down through the leaves. “It sounds like something out of a story...I’m glad your world finally found its peace though. Hopefully it can become permanent.”
Kuja affirmed that he would at least like to learn the theory behind the sending, and she gave him a curious look as he compared aeons to eidolons. “Eidolon...I don’t know the term, but they do sound incredibly similar. It’s probably safe to compare them if that's what your summoners called forth.” It might give him a helpful visual to reference at least, though a part of his phrasing struck her as odd. "They aren't called by your summoners anymore? You said eidolons were legends..."
Kuja started forward through the marsh, and Yuna hesitated only briefly before following. He had said that he knew a way back to civilization, and she had little choice but to trust him at this point. She didn’t think she could find her way back to the path herself, and he seemed nice enough for a stranger. It was probably better to stick together right now with how malicious the forest seemed.
“Everything? That’s a tall order,” Yuna said with a faint smile when Kuja requested information. “You’re a fast learner though. I’ve said all those terms only once…” Maybe that was to be expected of a scholar. Maechen had been much the same. Yuna contemplated where to begin for a moment before deciding that the beginning was best.
“Summoners are people who trained to learn to control pyreflies. Which I would best describe as the life energy that’s present in everything. Even the dead, or the trees in this forest. It’s what makes a soul.” Yuna glanced in the direction of where the mist had fled, wondering vaguely where a sending led people to in Zephon. Was there a farplane here? Perhaps she just hadn’t found the answer yet.
“The pyreflies of a person’s soul can remain after death if the person has a strong enough conviction to stay. Usually in violent or unusual deaths...They can even take on the shape and memories of the dead person sometimes, but they’ll likely be a twisted version of themselves who are just following a single purpose now. But that’s rare. Mostly the unsent just turn into fiends--monsters who prey on the living.” Yuna adjusted how she was holding her staff before continuing. “Summoners can prevent that by performing the sending. It’s a ritual dance that focuses on collecting pyreflies and forcing them to leave this world for the Farplane.”
Yuna knew that she hadn’t really scratched the surface on summoners yet--she hadn’t covered aeons after all--but she felt a little self-conscious about speaking for so long, so glanced a little sheepishly at Kuja out of the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t the most exciting…”
Pyreflies. It was a strange word for a simple phenomena. Every life had its own power collected at death by the cycle. It was odd to have it described to him in such terms. What Gaian, after all, would know of such a thing? He didn’t mind exactly. It may have been off putting, but it felt refreshing in his own way. He’d never once had the chance to discuss the workings of the planet with anyone not attempting to lecture him. Garland made for the worst of company.
”A strong enough conviction…” He touched at his lips, humming softly. Well that was news to him. Only souls with a strong enough psychic awareness had a chance of lingering after death -- in other words, Terrans. What would it be to take a form after death? She said they became a twisted version, but what would that mean exactly? It seemed a kind of immortality.
Now that was something worth his interest.
”Are these twisted souls made manifest? Physically, I mean.” If so, would it be truly different from life? There was nothing left for him on Gaia with his mortality realized and Terra in ruin. But if he could somehow find a way to this Spira…
”What are the mechanics of this Sending? You say that you ’collect and force them away.’ Do you have some psychic capacity?” He doubted it. She seemed to think that a summoner’s rituals were common enough to be learned by anyone. And he sensed absolutely nothing unusual about her soul. He laughed under his breath. ”And must it involve a dance?”
Dancing. Now that would certainly be a new experience for him. And one that he was loathe to try under prying eyes. Not even scholarly curiosity was worth that kind of indignity.
Still, it was worth quite a lot. He looked at her, eyes burning with a kind of hunger. ”Isn’t it though?” Exciting, that was. Perhaps not for the idiot masses, but for anyone with even a hint of intelligence…
Yuna was a little taken aback by the interest that Kuja was showing in her stories of Spira, but she didn’t necessarily mind. It was refreshing to be able to talk about it again. Her friends were happy to hear the basics of course, but she wouldn’t have dreamed of boring them with all the gory details. Kuja, on the other hand, seemed bright with curiosity about every small item that she wouldn’t normally think to mention.
”Are these twisted souls made manifest? Physically, I mean.”
It seemed an odd question, but Yuna still smiled as she glanced over at the lavender-haired man. Perhaps he was picturing something as non-corporeal as the pyreflies. “Unfortunately, yes. So are the fiends that come from normal cases of unsent souls. That’s what makes them so dangerous.”
Kuja went on to ask about how exactly a sending worked, and Yuna laughed a little at the implication that she was psychic. “Oh no, it’s a magic that can be studied and learned like any other,” she reassured him. “It’s traditionally only been taught to apprentice summoners though. Since it’s such a solemn affair.”
Yuna wasn’t able to hold it together when he bemoaned that the sending was a dance, and she pressed one hand to her mouth to contain a laugh. “I think you’d look rather nice performing it. Your clothes seem to flow well,” she said with a smile before taking his question seriously. “That part is mostly a ritual--we think that it shows respect for the dead--but it has some practical purposes to it. I think it helps with concentration and directing the souls, but it can definitely be toned down if you’re in a hurry.” Which was a pity. She’d have liked to do the full sending for every unsent that she came across, but she’d been forced to do little more than some grandiose staff movements at times during her pilgrimage.
Kujs brushed off her insecurities that she must have been boring him by insisting that she continue. His pale eyes were alight with so much curiosity that it was clear he wasn’t just being polite. He genuinely wanted to know all these things.
“You really are a scholar,” Yuna said with a faint smile, glancing forward at the trees that they were stepping past. “Alright. I’ll do my best.”
What else had Kuja requested to know about? Aeons? She could at least begin the topic, though she’d need to explain Sin before long. Right now, Sin was absolutely the shoopuf in the corner of the room.
“To become a full-fledged summoner, you have to form a bond with an aeon. They...used to be humans, but they gave their lives to become what they are now.” It had always been sad to her, but the story seemed somehow more real now that she had met several of the Fayth personally. “Not very many succeed, but if you do manage it, then you have a mental link with that aeon and you can call on them for help going forward. They’re enormously powerful. Of course, their help comes with the price that you’ll try to defeat Sin...”
Yuna hesitated, glancing up at Kuja before deciding to provide only the surface definition. She was sure the scholar would have questions, after all. “Sin is a beast that’s destroyed cities in Spira and murdered its citizens for over a thousand years. The main goal of summoners is to one day destroy it for good.”
If Declan was to be believed, then Yuna had already done that, but her feelings on that particular subject were too complicated to delve into with a stranger.
