FF6 - Still Going

FF6 is Square's.

After Kefka rearranges the world and the Blackjack breaks, the Returners land in unfamiliar terrain. Cyan lands in the desert near Kolinghen. First Doma felll...and now the apocalypse---it's about all he can stand. Fierce and strong warrior he is, he's only human. His years are many--and he's tired. He lets himself collapse, thinking of frying in the desert heat. He lets go..

But on some kind of fancy he opens up his watch and through the gathering dust storm glimpses the portrait. Elaine and Owain smile at him. They are only likenesses..but they summon his memories..he can her voice...his voice... Slowly he stands and walks on.

Edgar lands in the waters near Nikeah. He knows it's Nikeah because of its unmistakable smell: rotten fish and desperation. And the harbor is good a place as any to dump their trash. This is the worst place for him to be, not because he's dainty. He who's trekked the world, slept in tents outside the capital city because your friendly neighborhood imperials'd rob you blind and gut you while they were at it if you slept at the inn, spent days wandering the forests, encrusted in monster blood because the nearest town was 10 miles away, is hardly dainty. Though--he is gagging a little from the cheese-smelling shoe that's just floated under his nose. But really--it was the worst place for him because of that crown. Everyone in the realm of Figaro knew who he was and what he looked like, (And come on, who can forget his dashing looks?) and the types of people who frequented Nikeah aren't fans of the king. So he treads the nasty water, thinking of how he can blend in with the natives.

Sabin loves the smell of grass. When he had escaped his destiny and carved out a new path for himself, he grew to maturity in the mountains, where man and beast were free. So he is shaken when he feels bare ground underneath him. And not rock--this feels different from rock-this feels..

Dead.. he wheels around. Everything..everything is dead. No trees, no grass. The air is stale--it feels choked. The dead ground moves under him. He rocks slightly. It moves more violently, throwing him off-balance. He looks over to see what it is it--grass! Life! His eyes fill with joy, and the monk quickly runs over towards the green, feeling light with hope.

Then a hole is punched through the rumbling ground. Dust blooms and clouds his vision. The rumbling is blasting in his ears now. Something rises over the cloud of dust. Something white--a monster? A--

A building..a tower..And at the top, a light.

Whatever that light is, it looks bad.