sexychocobo ([personal profile] sexychocobo) wrote in [community profile] fuckyeahfinalfantasy2010-09-27 01:43 am


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FF Tactics, Ramza/Deltia

(Anonymous) 2010-09-29 09:42 pm (UTC)(link)
And the history books forgot about us...

Re: FF Tactics, Ramza/Deltia

(Anonymous) 2010-11-03 04:47 am (UTC)(link)
-First Kiss-

He is my family's stable boy. He is my best friend. I find him this night, tending to the pregnant mare. His soft brown hair glows gently in the light from the lanterns. He makes no sound, but the motion of his shoulders shaking silently gives away the extent of his wounds. In all the years we've grown together, I've never known Delita to cry.

My steps are light among the earth as I approach. The brush in his hand pauses in it's motion. His arm raises to wipe at his face. His breath escapes, shaking from his lips. He returns to his earlier preoccupation, gliding the bristles through the smooth red coat of the gentle creature.

He speaks without turning to me. His tone bitter. “Do you believe, Ramza, --‘friend’-- Do you believe as they do?”

I pause in my steps. I cannot fathom of what he speaks. I had not heard all the details. Only, that a fight had broken out in the market. I’d spent most of the morning at my father’s side, learning of politics from my older brothers. When I’d learned that Delita had been involved, I had left the castle to find him. I looked all over peasant quarters from the fading light of dusk to the rise of the moon. It was only when I headed home, that his piteous sobs reached my ears.

I did not know what exactly had happened. But I was no longer as naïve as I’d been in younger days. I could have guess what had likely happened. I chose my words carefully. “They are knaves, Del--”

He spun suddenly, the fire in his eyes a dangerously lit coal that might one day consume a lesser man. “ Knaves that have your father’s ear! And what am I? But a mere groomsman?”

My breath is taken by a dagger through my heart at the bruising of his eye. My eyes are drawn now to the tatters in his shirt, from the scuffle. Through them, my eyes discern, there are more bruises along his chest and about his waist. Without thinking, I step forward and lift his shirt to remove it.

He draws a sharp breath and before the useless cloth is discarded onto the earth, I already know, his ribs are broken. My fingers trace the swollen, discolored skin. Delita winces at my mere touch. A sudden anger burns within me. I shall find those knaves. Justice will be done for you, my friend.

Dark eyes rove mine for an answer I cannot provide him. ‘Tis not my place to wonder where the hearts of men have gone. Why some must suffer while others live in excess. I’ve always wished that we were equals, not for Delita’s family to be rich, like mine, but I’d rather, to have been born poor, as he.

“Delita,” his name flees my lips as soft as a whisper, “what happened?”

His eyes darken then, the dangerous coal stoking to greater heights, the fire within his soul. “What always happens, Ramza,” he nearly spits the venom of his rage at me, “The powerful oppress the meek, as it always is, as it has always been,” he turns his eyes from me, “As it will always be,”

“Delita…” he flinches when my fingers touch his cheek, “No. I will change it. It will not alwa--”

“You are third, Beoulve,” he scoffs, “ Time’s march will slow your ambition. You will forget your boyhood vows when the hour of manhood is upon you. Power corrupts, absolutely, friend,”

“Delita…” I cannot bear to the see the hurt in his eyes anymore, and his tone spears me to the soul. Something has changed between us. I do not know what it is. It feels as though…

He hates me.

Burning tears sting my eyes. He turns away from me and grabs the pitchfork. In the light of the lanterns, all I see is the dark bruises that mottle his back, his shoulders, his arms. He cries out and drops to one knee. The pitchfork clatters to the ground.

“Delita!” I rush to his side. He is panting, his face contorted in pain. His breaths come strained through gritted teeth. He is heavy, but I manage to bring him away from the mare, with his own assistance. I let his arm down from about my shoulders. He slumps to the ground. I do not care that my pants are worth more than his yearly earn. My brothers will yell tomorrow, and I will let them. Their voices and curses will fade to the winds. I kneel down in the mud beside my lifelong friend.

Sweat covers his brow. He pants for breath. I reach into my side pouch. Among the various herbs I picked to help Alma and Teta with supper, there is a small bottle. Carefully I lift it out. The mysterious healing liquid glows a deep, dark blue.


“Here, drink it,” My hand lifts his chin, but he turns away from me.

“No… tis too expensive. I cannot repay you for it. I…argh!…I will heal…in time,” he protests.

My sigh, followed by my insistent hand under his chin is all it takes to convince him that I do care not of such petty things. Only that he be well. “And how can you care for my mares when you can barely breathe to feed them?” My voice is light and teasing as I uncork the vial and tip the contents into his mouth.

His face is bitter as the horrid taste goes down. Moments later, his body miraculously mends by means of ancient magics. His breath is no longer ragged. He stands on his own. “Thank you, Ram,”

There is a gentleness in his eyes that mends the wound in my heart at his earlier accusation. A warm rush of feeling prompts my arms to find him and clutch him to my breast. “We will always be friends, Delita. I give you my word, on the Beoulve’s honor,”

He laughs, a deep rumble against my chest that reverberates down into my body and tickles my chest. “Yes, Ram,” he affirms, wrapping his arms around me in return. He squeezes tighter than I’d have expected. His cheek brushes mine. His breath rages fire against my ear. “You’ve no idea the extent of my gratitude,” His lips press against my cheek.

My heart pounds in confusion. He draws away and I am somehow both relieved and disappointed. However, he does not draw away completely. His dark eyes rove mine once more, searching again, for an answer I do not know how to give. “Or my love,” he whispers ever so gentle in to the lantern-light.

His lips settle onto mine and they are light and free and soft. I cannot contain myself and I respond with equal vigor. Clashing sensations race through my mind. This is right. This is very wrong. This is all I want. Him, here, in this moment, holding me, caressing me with his mouth. Claiming me with his tongue against mine. I love him. He is my best friend. He is mine.
hamimi_fk: Random girl (Sakaki blushing)

Re: FF Tactics, Ramza/Deltia

[personal profile] hamimi_fk 2010-11-15 09:53 am (UTC)(link)
This is absolutely beautiful! Big applause to you, Anon! <3

Re: FF Tactics, Ramza/Deltia

(Anonymous) 2010-11-18 01:41 am (UTC)(link)
Writer anon says, "Thankee-sai!"