Fang's a hard character to write, I'll give her that. I think it's mostly getting her cadence down that I see people have trouble with. Your Fang is really good, I thought, so...?
XD Great minds think alike, XD
Anyway, I'll post the rest of the scene so you kinda understand what's happening, but it's kinda a prelude to this fic. It's part of a shorter three-part fic I'm in the process of writing.
Her hand comes up, and she clutches at her brand, nails digging into the flesh there, until he can see the skin breaking, and then she releases a ragged breath, and tries to pull herself away from him. He doesn’t let her go; she snarls a string of words he can’t understand, but is probably Oerban for ‘fuck off, fucker’. Any other time, it would make him smile.
“This is my fault. See--I was stupid, so fucking stupid. The Cocoonians had killed a friend of mine and I--I wanted retribution. And I thought that if I was a L’Cie, I could. I could beat them, make them pay for what I did. So I went to Anima and asked to be made a L’Cie, but I didn’t realize--Vanille had followed. In trying to protect my Village, I had dragged down my best friend--my partner--and then no one was there to look after the orphans when we went to Cocoon. And I’m Ragnorak. I destroyed--and caused all of this mess and now Oerba--”
Fang falters, digging into her mark even more painfully, and Snow tugs her into his arms, and rests his head on hers; she falls silent, tense. “Fang, it’s not your fault.”
“Fuck you,” she murmurs, making no move to shove him away, looking at the ruined tracks again, “You’re all talk.”
He waits--just holds her there, feels her breathe (even coming apart at all her seams, she’s still rigid and proud in his arms, and he can’t help but wonder whether or not it’s a good thing)--and she finally expells a breath that sounds like the aftershock of a sob. Snow tightens his hold on her; maybe if he squeezes tight enough, she’ll realize that she’s not alone.
Finally, finally, she pulls her hand from her mark, and he can just barely see that she’s bleeding. “You should just kill me,” she murmurs.
“Fang--”
“Listen,” she snaps, and it occurs to him that this isn’t something that just came to her, that’s she’s been thinking it for awhile. “If you’re serious about protecting Cocoon, saving it or whatever? It’s gonna have to happen. Ragnorak. I’m Ragnorak. To protect Cocoon, I have to fall. And I--I can’t turn, Snow. Not into a Cie’th and there’s... Something different. I haven’t been able to figure it out before now, but I think I understand it. Why my mark’s all messed up?”
Snow spins her around, making her face him, and he says, “Fang. Think about it, for a second, will you? Killing you won’t save Cocoon. They’ll make the next sorry sap into Ragnorak.”
“I’m not dying, Snow. Every second of our lives, we’re dying one little second at a time. But I’m not like that, anymore. I’m not dying. I’m going to live until someone kills me or until I become Ragnorak and do what the Fal’Cie want me to do. I don’t want that, Snow. Imortality or becoming a fucking puppet. Maybe that makes me selfish, but I don’t fucking give a damn.”
His eyes shut for a moment--tries to get his bearings, tries to respond from a place that isn’t colored by his own gaping loss--and then he mumurs, “Fang, we’ll sort this out,” he pauses, “I promise. It’ll be okay.”
Her lips pull back, and she chokes on the snarl. “Fuck, Snow. You can’t save everyone. You’re going to have to make a choice.”
“We’ll figure it out when we get there, then.”
Fang turns her head, looking away; Snow sighs, reaches up and scratches the back of his head. “Fang...” he exhales a breath that’s not nearly as even as he’d like it to be. “We’re not going to abandon you to fight alone. You’re not going to be left alone while we’re all Cie’th.”
She looks back up at him, face relaxing for a moment, and then she turns away again. “You can’t promise me that.”
“So what can I do, Fang? Let me help--that’s what family’s for, right?”
For a long time, she doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, and then she presses her face into his chest. But she doesn’t shake with tears, doesn’t do anything but rest there, and he reaches out and gently strokes her hair, because there’s really not anything else he can do for her, not really. Not right now. Not like this.
It’s so quiet he nearly misses it. “Don’t leave,” she murmurs.
And that’s for sure something he can do.
“C’mon,” he says, “Heroes don’t leave anyone behind, you know that.”
She sighs and then pulls away from him, face a mask of strength, but there’s a look in her eyes that, frankly, terrifies him (terrifies him enough to wonder if they’re going to wake up one morning and find that Fang’s gone, for good) and she says, “Let’s go back. They’ll be gettin’ worried.”
Fang’s gone before he can stop her. All he can do now is cross his fingers and make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.
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Date: 2011-08-08 02:33 am (UTC)XD Great minds think alike, XD
Anyway, I'll post the rest of the scene so you kinda understand what's happening, but it's kinda a prelude to this fic. It's part of a shorter three-part fic I'm in the process of writing.
Her hand comes up, and she clutches at her brand, nails digging into the flesh there, until he can see the skin breaking, and then she releases a ragged breath, and tries to pull herself away from him. He doesn’t let her go; she snarls a string of words he can’t understand, but is probably Oerban for ‘fuck off, fucker’. Any other time, it would make him smile.
“This is my fault. See--I was stupid, so fucking stupid. The Cocoonians had killed a friend of mine and I--I wanted retribution. And I thought that if I was a L’Cie, I could. I could beat them, make them pay for what I did. So I went to Anima and asked to be made a L’Cie, but I didn’t realize--Vanille had followed. In trying to protect my Village, I had dragged down my best friend--my partner--and then no one was there to look after the orphans when we went to Cocoon. And I’m Ragnorak. I destroyed--and caused all of this mess and now Oerba--”
Fang falters, digging into her mark even more painfully, and Snow tugs her into his arms, and rests his head on hers; she falls silent, tense. “Fang, it’s not your fault.”
“Fuck you,” she murmurs, making no move to shove him away, looking at the ruined tracks again, “You’re all talk.”
He waits--just holds her there, feels her breathe (even coming apart at all her seams, she’s still rigid and proud in his arms, and he can’t help but wonder whether or not it’s a good thing)--and she finally expells a breath that sounds like the aftershock of a sob. Snow tightens his hold on her; maybe if he squeezes tight enough, she’ll realize that she’s not alone.
Finally, finally, she pulls her hand from her mark, and he can just barely see that she’s bleeding. “You should just kill me,” she murmurs.
“Fang--”
“Listen,” she snaps, and it occurs to him that this isn’t something that just came to her, that’s she’s been thinking it for awhile. “If you’re serious about protecting Cocoon, saving it or whatever? It’s gonna have to happen. Ragnorak. I’m Ragnorak. To protect Cocoon, I have to fall. And I--I can’t turn, Snow. Not into a Cie’th and there’s... Something different. I haven’t been able to figure it out before now, but I think I understand it. Why my mark’s all messed up?”
Snow spins her around, making her face him, and he says, “Fang. Think about it, for a second, will you? Killing you won’t save Cocoon. They’ll make the next sorry sap into Ragnorak.”
“I’m not dying, Snow. Every second of our lives, we’re dying one little second at a time. But I’m not like that, anymore. I’m not dying. I’m going to live until someone kills me or until I become Ragnorak and do what the Fal’Cie want me to do. I don’t want that, Snow. Imortality or becoming a fucking puppet. Maybe that makes me selfish, but I don’t fucking give a damn.”
His eyes shut for a moment--tries to get his bearings, tries to respond from a place that isn’t colored by his own gaping loss--and then he mumurs, “Fang, we’ll sort this out,” he pauses, “I promise. It’ll be okay.”
Her lips pull back, and she chokes on the snarl. “Fuck, Snow. You can’t save everyone. You’re going to have to make a choice.”
“We’ll figure it out when we get there, then.”
Fang turns her head, looking away; Snow sighs, reaches up and scratches the back of his head. “Fang...” he exhales a breath that’s not nearly as even as he’d like it to be. “We’re not going to abandon you to fight alone. You’re not going to be left alone while we’re all Cie’th.”
She looks back up at him, face relaxing for a moment, and then she turns away again. “You can’t promise me that.”
“So what can I do, Fang? Let me help--that’s what family’s for, right?”
For a long time, she doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, and then she presses her face into his chest. But she doesn’t shake with tears, doesn’t do anything but rest there, and he reaches out and gently strokes her hair, because there’s really not anything else he can do for her, not really. Not right now. Not like this.
It’s so quiet he nearly misses it. “Don’t leave,” she murmurs.
And that’s for sure something he can do.
“C’mon,” he says, “Heroes don’t leave anyone behind, you know that.”
She sighs and then pulls away from him, face a mask of strength, but there’s a look in her eyes that, frankly, terrifies him (terrifies him enough to wonder if they’re going to wake up one morning and find that Fang’s gone, for good) and she says, “Let’s go back. They’ll be gettin’ worried.”
Fang’s gone before he can stop her. All he can do now is cross his fingers and make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.