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Fweeeeee
Boy, did this little thing mutate. It was going to be some kind of trippy conversation between Locke and Leo (through a dream sequence or something... I don't know) about Celes, what she's like, and what you have to expect when courting her and such. But as I started writing, I started realizing that that wasn't Locke's issue. And in exploring what Locke's issue really was, I completely wrote Leo out of the idea. Oh well... I got some cute out of it, anyway. This is really quite a rough draft, and I've already noticed several inconsistencies (one of which is particularly embarrassing as I violated my own nitpick), so I'll be replacing this with a more finished draft later.
Please feel free to point out anything that I've got wrong/doesn't flow/needs to be explained further.
===
The room was modest enough, considering its location. Normally containing little more than a bed and some essential furniture, tonight it also contained Locke Cole. And Locke Cole currently contained a glass and a half of wine and was thinking seriously about containing some cigar smoke as well.
It wasn't that he was afraid, not really. He knew how he felt, and how she felt, and it'd be okay no matter what; fine and dandy if she said yes, still fine if she said no because he could afford to give her breathing room, he wouldn't force her into anything she didn't want... and he'd been through worse than this before, he wasn't some sniveling twit who'd fall apart at a word...
And he wasn't worried about her, really...
Locke squeezed his eyes shut. He hadn't had nearly enough to get drunk, not even by his standards - he got tipsy on very little, and completely plastered on what would get normal people a little bit loose - and he was kind of wishing he had. But the bottle next to the bed was empty and there'd be no getting any more, no, the entire damn castle was asleep now and he wasn't, which was hardly fair...
He rolled over, and only then, as he lifted his hand from where it hand been dangling over the edge of the bed, did he really become aware of how tightly he had been holding onto the ring.
It wasn't the same ring, not Rachel's ring. Rachel was dead, and he didn't want to sully her memory by giving that ring to another woman. She had given him closure, given him leave to love again; he did feel free, and Celes Chere was the woman he loved now.... but his words of marriage to Rachel had been true when he had spoken them, and he would not falsify that memory by using the same ring. Besides, that was essentially asking Celes to replace Rachel and that was a terribly unfair thing to ask of her.
"I don't know who you are, but you've upset my parents! Please leave!"
Damn, but memory was a bitch. Locke gripped tightly onto the ring to dispel the memory.
It won't happen that way. Never again.
Celes would be safe. Celes had to be safe; she'd survived the end of the world, for the love of the gods, and a little ring wouldn't...
....but Rachel...
Locke opened his hand and looked at the ring, gleaming pearl and silver against his palm, and swallowed, gritting his teeth.
She's not Rachel. She's Celes and it's never going to happen again.
He closed his eyes and curled his fist around the ring again. He felt sick with anxiety and the room was too hot and he was never going to sleep...
And then, as such things always go....
"Hey, lover boy."
"mzzfrgle?"
"Unless you're planning to propose in your sleep, you'd better get up."
"Ahhh.... shit!" Locke snapped awake and battled his way out of the sheets. So he'd managed to sleep last night after all.
"Hey... are you alright? It looks like you had a rough night, friend."
"Ngh. Not so much a rough night as a really long one..." Locke moved to rub his eyes, and then realized one of his hands was still fisted. He carefully opened it, and the ring lay innocently in his palm. His fingers were sore.
Edgar's eyes went wide as he saw this. "Have you been holding onto that all night?"
"I. I guess so." Locke flexed his fingers. "Hand still works, I'll be fine. Here, hold this for me while I get dressed?" He handed off the ring to Edgar. The young king lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing and took it, wiping the sweat from Locke's hand off of it with his robe.
"Are you really sure you're up to this? Celes isn't suspecting anything. As far as she knows, this is just a friendly visit... you don't have to propose to her today."
"Edgar, if I don't propose to her today, I never will."
"Locke." Edgar stood up, walking up to the treasure hunter as he pulled on a clean pair of pants. "I know you. This isn't just cold feet. What's wrong?"
"I'm not a jinx," Locke muttered, shrugging on his jacket and reaching for his rather threadbare old bandanna.
"Wait, what does that have to do with--"
"Tell me that, Edgar." Locke finished with the knot on his bandanna and turned to grip Edgar's shoulders, a desperate man. "You have to tell me that until I believe it. Tell me I'm not a jinx. Tell me she's not Rachel."
Edgar frowned. "Is that it? You're afraid she'll lose her memory and die?"
"Tell me, Edgar. Tell me she won't do something stupidly heroic and die for me. Tell me I'm not executing her by proposing to her. Tell me that, please."
"Locke... sit down."
The jittery pile of nerves otherwise known as Locke Cole allowed himself to be led to the bed and sat down on the plush mattress. "I just don't want to see anything happen to her because of me... I love her, Edgar, I don't want to see her hurt or worse because of me..."
"Listen, I'm about to tell you something... it's absolutely true, and I think that it'll help you. Okay?"
Locke nodded, staring firmly into Edgar's bright blue eyes.
"In all my years, I have..."
Bracing himself for words of royal wisdom, Locke suddenly found himself on the receiving end of a royal slap to the face instead.
"... never heard you spout so much chocobo shit, Locke!"
While Locke sputtered and tried to say something, Edgar grasped him firmly by the shoulders.
"Rachel didn't die because you were engaged. Rachel died because the Empire killed her. The Empire did not kill her because you were engaged. The Empire killed her because they were attacking Kohlingen. That's it. It's arbitrary and horrible and I won't blame you if you never entirely get over it, but it didn't happen because of you."
Locke closed his eyes and bowed his head. Edgar frowned as a tear ran down his friend's face.
"Yeah.... I know, damn it, I know, but tell this that." Locke flattened his hand against his chest, over his heart. "I'm just afraid. I shouldn't be, but I am."
Edgar sighed and rested his forehead against Locke's, reaching around to rub his friend's back. "You know, I don't really blame you. But, look. You love her, don't you?"
"Of course I do. I really do want to marry her."
"Then believe in her. Okay?" Edgar drew back and clapped Locke on the shoulder. "We've seen her fight often enough, we know she can take care of herself. I don't think she's planning to die anytime soon."
Locke managed a smile. "No. I don't guess she is."
Edgar grinned. "So. The real question is whether you're willing to go down there and propose or stay up here all day. Setzer should already have her into a game by now."
Locke stood up and took a deep breath.
"Let's go."
-
He first heard their voices halfway down the stairwell; Celes's rich laughter and Setzer's cultured tone, playing the fool to make Celes laugh and relax.
Thanks, Setz. You're doing just fine.
So Celes was already here, and they were well into their plan. Meaning Locke was late; he should have already been there. Well enough, though, the really important part was still to come...
Steeling himself and making an effort to look pleasant and relaxed, Locke stepped out into the large relaxation room.
"Look who I finally dragged out of bed," Edgar said lightly, drawing the attention of the two players at the table. Celes, already in quite a good mood, brightened still more at the sight of them.
"Ah, Locke!" She waved, still holding her cards close to her chest. She was dressed in quite a nice outfit, which made Locke feel better about having borrowed some of Edgar's clothes for the occasion. "I'm just winning Setzer's clothes, wine, and airship off of him. You may want to stop me before I win those scars right off his face."
"That's what you think," Setzer said haughtily. "I've been letting you win. It's not very gentlemanly to crush a newcomer in the opening hands."
The scary thing was, Locke thought, Setzer was probably telling the truth. The gambler hadn't become famous for losing at every casino he went to.
"Let me cherish the dream," Celes said airily. "Here - I have four of a kind, you?"
"Ah!" Setzer put a hand dramatically to his heart. "Struck down - I have only three. I was hoping on you having a pair or worse."
Celes just grinned and pulled the pot towards her growing pile of chips. "Would you like another hand?"
"Of course. I'm still not planning to lose."
It was now or never.
"Deal me in," Locke said, pulling up a chair at the table and sitting down. Edgar smiled and moved to get a new stack of chips from the cabinet. Setzer had been making sure the castle was well-stocked with gambling supplies.
"As long as you're not thinking you'll win." Setzer grinned cheekily, collecting Celes's hand and shuffling the deck. Edgar moved in and offered Celes a drink, and while she was distracted, Setzer winked at Locke.
"I had a straight," he whispered as he began dealing.
Locke nodded dimly, unsure of what exactly a straight was except that it was almost certainly better than what Setzer had claimed to have. That was the part of the plan that had been Setzer and Edgar's idea, and which Locke hadn't liked much - let her win at the game so she'd be in a better mood at the crucial point.
But it worked, anyway. Locke had absolutely no idea how to play poker, which was, of course, part of the plan. He nervously fidgeted with the pile of chips Edgar had given him; the ring carefully hidden near the bottom. Celes wouldn't notice, hopefully, until...
The hand went by in a blur for Locke; he couldn't see any kind of pattern in his hand and therefore decided it was worthless, which was fine. He wasn't playing to win. Not with cards, anyway.
"You're both making this much too easy for me," Celes said, collecting the new pot. "I hope at least one of you genuinely lost that hand or I'll be very disappointed."
"I did," Locke said, more to be saying something, doing anything, than to just sit there. He'd snuck the ring into his ante, and hopefully...
"Do we have a silver chip?" Setzer asked, pulling off a masterful performance of innocent curiousity. "Look, you just collected it from Locke."
"Did I?" Celes looked into her pile of chips, saw the glimmer, and dug it out. Her eyes widened as she held up the ring, inspecting it. "A ring? Edgar, did you lose--"
"Celes," Locke said, and then blushed as Setzer choked off a snicker. His voice had broken on the second syllable. He cleared his throat and tried again, wrapping his hands around Celes's.
"Celes, will you marry me?"
She looked startled, disbelieving, amazed....
And then, slowly, she smiled.
==
I kind of like this. It was a fun exploration of Locke, and let me play with Locke x Celes, which I adore. Edgar was fun to write, and it was interesting - normally when I write a character saying something completely tactless, I have to go back and rewrite it because it didn't sound right coming from them. Not so with Edgar - I shook my head at his bluntness, but it just somehow seemed right coming from him.
And speaking of Edgar, I had to swat him down at one point because he was insisting on giving Locke a kiss. No, Edgar, he's straight. Down boy. Go snuggle with Setzer.
Anyway, comments, criticisms?
Please feel free to point out anything that I've got wrong/doesn't flow/needs to be explained further.
===
The room was modest enough, considering its location. Normally containing little more than a bed and some essential furniture, tonight it also contained Locke Cole. And Locke Cole currently contained a glass and a half of wine and was thinking seriously about containing some cigar smoke as well.
It wasn't that he was afraid, not really. He knew how he felt, and how she felt, and it'd be okay no matter what; fine and dandy if she said yes, still fine if she said no because he could afford to give her breathing room, he wouldn't force her into anything she didn't want... and he'd been through worse than this before, he wasn't some sniveling twit who'd fall apart at a word...
And he wasn't worried about her, really...
Locke squeezed his eyes shut. He hadn't had nearly enough to get drunk, not even by his standards - he got tipsy on very little, and completely plastered on what would get normal people a little bit loose - and he was kind of wishing he had. But the bottle next to the bed was empty and there'd be no getting any more, no, the entire damn castle was asleep now and he wasn't, which was hardly fair...
He rolled over, and only then, as he lifted his hand from where it hand been dangling over the edge of the bed, did he really become aware of how tightly he had been holding onto the ring.
It wasn't the same ring, not Rachel's ring. Rachel was dead, and he didn't want to sully her memory by giving that ring to another woman. She had given him closure, given him leave to love again; he did feel free, and Celes Chere was the woman he loved now.... but his words of marriage to Rachel had been true when he had spoken them, and he would not falsify that memory by using the same ring. Besides, that was essentially asking Celes to replace Rachel and that was a terribly unfair thing to ask of her.
"I don't know who you are, but you've upset my parents! Please leave!"
Damn, but memory was a bitch. Locke gripped tightly onto the ring to dispel the memory.
It won't happen that way. Never again.
Celes would be safe. Celes had to be safe; she'd survived the end of the world, for the love of the gods, and a little ring wouldn't...
....but Rachel...
Locke opened his hand and looked at the ring, gleaming pearl and silver against his palm, and swallowed, gritting his teeth.
She's not Rachel. She's Celes and it's never going to happen again.
He closed his eyes and curled his fist around the ring again. He felt sick with anxiety and the room was too hot and he was never going to sleep...
And then, as such things always go....
"Hey, lover boy."
"mzzfrgle?"
"Unless you're planning to propose in your sleep, you'd better get up."
"Ahhh.... shit!" Locke snapped awake and battled his way out of the sheets. So he'd managed to sleep last night after all.
"Hey... are you alright? It looks like you had a rough night, friend."
"Ngh. Not so much a rough night as a really long one..." Locke moved to rub his eyes, and then realized one of his hands was still fisted. He carefully opened it, and the ring lay innocently in his palm. His fingers were sore.
Edgar's eyes went wide as he saw this. "Have you been holding onto that all night?"
"I. I guess so." Locke flexed his fingers. "Hand still works, I'll be fine. Here, hold this for me while I get dressed?" He handed off the ring to Edgar. The young king lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing and took it, wiping the sweat from Locke's hand off of it with his robe.
"Are you really sure you're up to this? Celes isn't suspecting anything. As far as she knows, this is just a friendly visit... you don't have to propose to her today."
"Edgar, if I don't propose to her today, I never will."
"Locke." Edgar stood up, walking up to the treasure hunter as he pulled on a clean pair of pants. "I know you. This isn't just cold feet. What's wrong?"
"I'm not a jinx," Locke muttered, shrugging on his jacket and reaching for his rather threadbare old bandanna.
"Wait, what does that have to do with--"
"Tell me that, Edgar." Locke finished with the knot on his bandanna and turned to grip Edgar's shoulders, a desperate man. "You have to tell me that until I believe it. Tell me I'm not a jinx. Tell me she's not Rachel."
Edgar frowned. "Is that it? You're afraid she'll lose her memory and die?"
"Tell me, Edgar. Tell me she won't do something stupidly heroic and die for me. Tell me I'm not executing her by proposing to her. Tell me that, please."
"Locke... sit down."
The jittery pile of nerves otherwise known as Locke Cole allowed himself to be led to the bed and sat down on the plush mattress. "I just don't want to see anything happen to her because of me... I love her, Edgar, I don't want to see her hurt or worse because of me..."
"Listen, I'm about to tell you something... it's absolutely true, and I think that it'll help you. Okay?"
Locke nodded, staring firmly into Edgar's bright blue eyes.
"In all my years, I have..."
Bracing himself for words of royal wisdom, Locke suddenly found himself on the receiving end of a royal slap to the face instead.
"... never heard you spout so much chocobo shit, Locke!"
While Locke sputtered and tried to say something, Edgar grasped him firmly by the shoulders.
"Rachel didn't die because you were engaged. Rachel died because the Empire killed her. The Empire did not kill her because you were engaged. The Empire killed her because they were attacking Kohlingen. That's it. It's arbitrary and horrible and I won't blame you if you never entirely get over it, but it didn't happen because of you."
Locke closed his eyes and bowed his head. Edgar frowned as a tear ran down his friend's face.
"Yeah.... I know, damn it, I know, but tell this that." Locke flattened his hand against his chest, over his heart. "I'm just afraid. I shouldn't be, but I am."
Edgar sighed and rested his forehead against Locke's, reaching around to rub his friend's back. "You know, I don't really blame you. But, look. You love her, don't you?"
"Of course I do. I really do want to marry her."
"Then believe in her. Okay?" Edgar drew back and clapped Locke on the shoulder. "We've seen her fight often enough, we know she can take care of herself. I don't think she's planning to die anytime soon."
Locke managed a smile. "No. I don't guess she is."
Edgar grinned. "So. The real question is whether you're willing to go down there and propose or stay up here all day. Setzer should already have her into a game by now."
Locke stood up and took a deep breath.
"Let's go."
-
He first heard their voices halfway down the stairwell; Celes's rich laughter and Setzer's cultured tone, playing the fool to make Celes laugh and relax.
Thanks, Setz. You're doing just fine.
So Celes was already here, and they were well into their plan. Meaning Locke was late; he should have already been there. Well enough, though, the really important part was still to come...
Steeling himself and making an effort to look pleasant and relaxed, Locke stepped out into the large relaxation room.
"Look who I finally dragged out of bed," Edgar said lightly, drawing the attention of the two players at the table. Celes, already in quite a good mood, brightened still more at the sight of them.
"Ah, Locke!" She waved, still holding her cards close to her chest. She was dressed in quite a nice outfit, which made Locke feel better about having borrowed some of Edgar's clothes for the occasion. "I'm just winning Setzer's clothes, wine, and airship off of him. You may want to stop me before I win those scars right off his face."
"That's what you think," Setzer said haughtily. "I've been letting you win. It's not very gentlemanly to crush a newcomer in the opening hands."
The scary thing was, Locke thought, Setzer was probably telling the truth. The gambler hadn't become famous for losing at every casino he went to.
"Let me cherish the dream," Celes said airily. "Here - I have four of a kind, you?"
"Ah!" Setzer put a hand dramatically to his heart. "Struck down - I have only three. I was hoping on you having a pair or worse."
Celes just grinned and pulled the pot towards her growing pile of chips. "Would you like another hand?"
"Of course. I'm still not planning to lose."
It was now or never.
"Deal me in," Locke said, pulling up a chair at the table and sitting down. Edgar smiled and moved to get a new stack of chips from the cabinet. Setzer had been making sure the castle was well-stocked with gambling supplies.
"As long as you're not thinking you'll win." Setzer grinned cheekily, collecting Celes's hand and shuffling the deck. Edgar moved in and offered Celes a drink, and while she was distracted, Setzer winked at Locke.
"I had a straight," he whispered as he began dealing.
Locke nodded dimly, unsure of what exactly a straight was except that it was almost certainly better than what Setzer had claimed to have. That was the part of the plan that had been Setzer and Edgar's idea, and which Locke hadn't liked much - let her win at the game so she'd be in a better mood at the crucial point.
But it worked, anyway. Locke had absolutely no idea how to play poker, which was, of course, part of the plan. He nervously fidgeted with the pile of chips Edgar had given him; the ring carefully hidden near the bottom. Celes wouldn't notice, hopefully, until...
The hand went by in a blur for Locke; he couldn't see any kind of pattern in his hand and therefore decided it was worthless, which was fine. He wasn't playing to win. Not with cards, anyway.
"You're both making this much too easy for me," Celes said, collecting the new pot. "I hope at least one of you genuinely lost that hand or I'll be very disappointed."
"I did," Locke said, more to be saying something, doing anything, than to just sit there. He'd snuck the ring into his ante, and hopefully...
"Do we have a silver chip?" Setzer asked, pulling off a masterful performance of innocent curiousity. "Look, you just collected it from Locke."
"Did I?" Celes looked into her pile of chips, saw the glimmer, and dug it out. Her eyes widened as she held up the ring, inspecting it. "A ring? Edgar, did you lose--"
"Celes," Locke said, and then blushed as Setzer choked off a snicker. His voice had broken on the second syllable. He cleared his throat and tried again, wrapping his hands around Celes's.
"Celes, will you marry me?"
She looked startled, disbelieving, amazed....
And then, slowly, she smiled.
==
I kind of like this. It was a fun exploration of Locke, and let me play with Locke x Celes, which I adore. Edgar was fun to write, and it was interesting - normally when I write a character saying something completely tactless, I have to go back and rewrite it because it didn't sound right coming from them. Not so with Edgar - I shook my head at his bluntness, but it just somehow seemed right coming from him.
And speaking of Edgar, I had to swat him down at one point because he was insisting on giving Locke a kiss. No, Edgar, he's straight. Down boy. Go snuggle with Setzer.
Anyway, comments, criticisms?
no subject
b) Tsk, Lyssie-chan! Never hold your Edgar back when he's about to pounce on Locke. XD ::Locke x Edgar fanboy inside screams::
c) A four of a kind is the second (?) strongest hand in the game, which would have genuinely whooped Setzer's measly straight. ^.^;;;
d) Once again, CUTE! XD
e) I didn't notice any inconsistencies, but if you revise this, I'd be happy to read the newer version. AWWWW! Cute! XD
::Hugs:: Great job again, Lyssie-chan! You make the FF4-FF6 fan in me proud! ^.^
no subject
b) You know... someday, just for you, I'm going to write Locke x Edgar. XD
c) Would it really? Well, then. That's an inconsistency, m'dear, and is exactly what I'm looking for. ::nod nod:: Thanks for pointing that out.
d) XD
e) Yes you did, but. XD (The really embarrassing one is that Locke is borrowing Edgar's clothes - ah, but Edgar is five inches taller so they wouldn't fit very well at all... it's embarrassing because I'm the one who fusses about character heights XD)