By Joelle Thomas
Planet, hes mine.
I cant believe this is happening, how that bitch of a barmaid is hanging all over him. So what if she was his childhood friend? Shes already had her chance. And he fell into my lap like a shooting star, trailing sunlight, his perfect face kissed with blood...
And his eyes. Oh, sweet Planet, his eyes.
Theyre the reason Im here now, getting cramps in my legs, feeling my lips tremble as I breathe white puffs into the air. Why is it so goddamn cold down here? And all this water why did my ancestors pick this place for a temple? How can I pray when my knees are shaking and my hands are blue?
I cant do this anymore, Planet. Its my turn to be happy. I dont want to sell flowers in the streets while those filthy drunkards leer at me; I want to fall asleep in his arms and wake up breathing his scent. I want to run away with him beyond the edge of time.
I want him, dammit.
And I want her to go away.
Look, Planet, I cant be nice forever. Theres a shadow beneath the flowers, and coiled there is a green-eyed snake. What do they think I am perfect? I cant be anybodys angel. But he could be mine, Planet, with his silken hair... his soft skin... his shining eyes...
Oh, those eyes.
Its just not fair.
I can breathe softly on his cheeks, Planet. I can let my breasts brush his arms, but hes always somewhere else. Someone with her. Every moment he lives five years ago, holding her bloody body and caressing her face and hair. He was her hero then, wasnt he? But she acts as if it never happened, as if he never saved her life, as if she just wants to forget it all.
Planet, why didnt she just die?
Thats cruel to think. I know. But Im tired of being nice. I cant turn the other cheek when my heart is being trampled like so much dirt. Oh, dont worry; Aeris wont mind. Aeris never minds. Shes never unhappy. Hell with that. I giggle and twirl my hair and simper for someone to save me, but I have teeth.
I can snarl.
I can bite.
Does she know that the eye I turn so ingenuously to him is glaring daggers into her?
They want to carry me on their banner like some holy virgin, the gift of heaven. They only see me glowing with the aura of healing magic, turning my smiling face towards the sun. Thats all they want to see. What they never notice are the glaring slits of my eyes when I pray... the lustful parting of my lips when I gaze at his body... the blood that spills when I crush a monsters head with my staff.
I am real, Planet. I am cruel as well as kind, shadow as well as light. But they dont see it. He doesnt see it. And for that reason he will never love me as I want to be loved. No man ever gives his passion to a star; he saves it instead for the flame that blazes and dies in a season. To him I am an ideal to be immortalized in stone, while she is flawed but living flesh.
And its my own goddamn fault.
All I wanted was to be enough for him, Planet. I thought he was perfect. I still think he is. But he doesnt want what I became for him. He has made me into a saint, and I want to spit on their worship. I never wanted to lead them on a quest to save the world. Damn the world. I just wanted to lie beside him and feel an eternal bond form between us, no matter what happens to everything else. Let the universe collapse. Just let me melt into him...
But it wont happen now. I screwed up everything, Planet. Ill always be their child-like Messiah, and theyll always stare at me and whisper in awe.
I wonder what theyd think if they knew that I, the holy Cetra, left to pray for something like this? Perhaps Ill pick a flower and tear off the petals until I get to He loves me not. Then I will wreathe my brow with blossoms and fall into the icy water, singing love ditties until my mouth is filled and my eyes are empty. Maybe Ill feel him in the embrace of the depths
I hear steps now, Planet. My heart quickens. Is he here? Could any two men have the same uncertain gait? The air is colder now in my throat as sounds ring around me: the cry of steel against steel the rush of blood in my ears the muted voices that seem to come from beyond the sea...
I raise my head and let my eyelids part. Sweet Planet, hes beautiful. The curve of his lips, the lines of his body, the shaking hands that hold his sword...
And his eyes...
I smile, wondering if my face betrays the bittersweet hunger that leaves my mouth dry and my limbs weak. Let me tell him, Planet. Let me taste his lips and bury my hands in his hair.
Then let me vanish.
I open my mouth to speak when I hear a rush of air overhead.
Joelle Thomas' Fanfiction