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seikilosTitle: Five Brief Moments Between Ceodore Harvey and Grune
Fandoms:![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
luceti, Tales of Legendia, Final Fantasy IV: The After Years, Final Fantasy IV, Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Words: 1578
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the above fandoms.
Summary: One way the friendship between Ceodore Harvey and Grune might have developed.
Author's Notes: You know you're behind in posting fic when the character you wrote a tribute fic for comes back to the RP before you can post it. :D;;
This wound up a fair bit sadder than I had intended it, since, um, now Ceodore and Selphie don't remember each other. W-Whoops? So much for my fluff.
#1 and #2 are based on threads that we didn't get to finish, due to health complications on Althea's side and slowness on mine. #3 was written long before the True!Grune plot, so I'd expected way more people to be awkward with Grune afterwards. XD;; #4 is, uh.... So, you know, when you write fics and then don't post them for months? Sometimes you write the same idea twice without realising it.
So yes, while I did change things around somewhat, #4 is awfully similar to a scene between Grune and Ginia I wrote second but posted first. I considered writing something else to replace it, but in the end, I figured the set-up was generic enough that it could stand. So, well, yup.
And that's enough talking. Enjoy?
Grune is an odd one. She's one of the kindest people he's ever met, in Baron or Luceti, but she's still odd, in many, many ways.
He never can quite decide if her complete, unshakable belief in him is her oddest trait of all.
(1)
He pounds the dirty ground of the Battle Dome hard enough to bruise his fist and lets out a yell that shames him with how close it is to tears. Still not good enough, still never, ever good enough, he'll never—
"Ceodore?"
His head snaps around, and then he's scrambling to his feet and gritting his teeth to dry his eyes, because there's Grune behind him, looking incredibly out of place in the training grounds. She's calm and peaceful, and he's suddenly extremely aware that he's sweaty and dirt-smudged and entirely in disarray.
"L-Lady Grune. Forgive me—I didn't realize you were here."
She advances from the doorway, looking about curiously, and he realizes that for all hers is the house closest to the Battle Dome, he's never seen her in here. Had she followed him?
He pushes his damp hair from his forehead (and prays he doesn't smell too much) when she stops in front of him. A moment later, her gaze comes to rest on him and she smiles.
"That's all right. You were busy."
It slips out before he can stop himself: "Busy losing to a simulation, yes."
There's sympathy in her expression now as she says, "Don't worry. I know you'll do it the next time."
He doesn't—he's far too conscious of her gaze on him to give the following battle his full attention—but he does the time after that, and her applause is a balm for his wounded self-confidence.
(2)
"Lady Grune, you dance very well," he complements her, just a little more formally than usual. The ball is bringing out a side to him that rarely has a place in Luceti. "Who was your teacher?"
By now, he isn't surprised when her response is to place her finger against her cheek and muse, "Hmm. . . . I wonder."
"It's all right," he tells her before her mind has the chance to wander too far. He's learning. "I was only a little curious."
He's also curious as to why her gaze is drifting upwards, but the moment he glances in the same direction, he's nearly tripping over his feet to back away.
Too late. Grune takes him by both shoulders, thereby trapping him beneath the mistletoe, and leans down to kiss him on the cheek.
"There," she says in satisfaction.
His face burning scarlet—damn his pale skin! —he scans the room, relieved to discover no one looking their way. If Selphie had seen that, he would never have had a moment's peace again. Her cackling would have haunted his ears for the rest of his life.
(3)
When he finds her tending to the Memory Garden alone, he hesitates. It hasn't been very long at all since that week when she had become an entirely different person. She hadn't been sweet and warm and absentminded—that wasn't her real self at all. Grune was. . . . If he was completely honest with himself, Grune was frightening. And maybe she's gone back to being gentle and kind, but he can't forget the side to her that could come back at any time.
He watches her carefully pull a weed from the midst of some brilliant gold crocuses, and he wonders—how many of her friends feel the same right now?
He gathers his courage and takes in a breath, then goes to kneel on the ground next to her.
"Hello, Lady Grune," he says with a smile. "Would you like some help with the weeding?"
The tired expression he glimpses before her answering smile slips into place strikes him with guilt, but when she answers, "Hello, Ceodore! That would be very nice—thank you," he feels better for ending their separation as soon as he did.
(4)
The wound along his arm is bleeding faster than he expected, and he can feel himself weakening, but he can't even manage a Cure. He'd be worried for himself, especially with two Third Party soldiers closing in on him, but he quite simply doesn't have the time.
. . . Or didn't, until a wall of water passes through him and bears away one soldier. The other is sent stumbling, giving him time to dart under his current opponent's guard and finish her. He glances behind himself for his saviour and—
"Lady Grune?" Had he known she could fight?
"Hello, Ceodore!" she calls, somehow still cheerful despite the endless fighting and death surrounding them.
He immediately falls back to protect her, and not too soon, for the remaining soldier has regained his balance and is making for them.
He engages the man but remains alert for other approaching soldiers. As he does, he hears the scrape and crack of ice and a scream that ends suddenly. The soldier in front of him flinches, and that's all he needs to end his life as well.
He looks back as quickly as he dares with his growing dizziness to see how Lady Grune is handling those deaths. He finds her with a pool of light at her feet and—there, a soldier who had slipped under his guard, preparing to strike—
"Lady Grune!" he cries and catches the blow on his blade.
This soldier is far too strong for him, as weakened as he is, and he can only pray that she finishes the spell quickly.
"Brilliant Lance."
He stumbles back as four massive spears perhaps taller than even his uncle strike down from the sky. There's a circle made of light on the ground and a flare, and the soldier falls down dead before them.
He sways and staggers, and strong, warm arms catch him.
"Here," Grune says, and pain he recognizes by its absence is soothed away. A moment later, he's able to stand on his own.
He bows. "Thank you."
She smiles and bows back. "You're welcome. And thank you!"
There's no time for any further words. They turn to face the next enemy, and as he settles into a guard stance in front of Grune, the battle does not look so hopeless any longer.
(5)
"Grune," he says, because the time for titles is long past. "Could I ask your opinion on something?"
Her response is immediate and exactly as he expected. "Oh, yes, of course. What is it?"
"I'll meet you at your house," he attempts to say calmly over the pounding of his heart. "I-Is that all right with you?"
"Yes, that's just fine. I'll see you soon!"
He closes the journal on her smiling face, kisses Selphie goodbye, avoids her curious questions as best he can, and walks the short distance to House 34. Though it takes little time to arrive, his fingers are stiff from clenching the tiny box in his pocket anyway.
Grune is outside watering her vegetable garden, and it's clear she's already forgotten he was coming, judging from the pleased yet surprised tone she greets him with.
"Oh, hello, Ceodore! It's such a beautiful day, isn't it?"
"It is," he agrees, and oh, he hopes he'll be able to say as much after this evening.
He looks over his shoulder—fortunately, House 34 is secluded and they're unlikely to be seen—then pulls out the box he's been holding in his pocket. He opens it and she leans in, curious.
"Grune, do . . . do you think Selphie would like this ring?" he asks with a dry mouth.
He's already asked Mother and Father, and a few close friends besides, but he wants to be sure. He wants to get this right.
The ring is small, gold, and delicate, a diamond flanked by two tiny sapphires. Yellow and blue—their colours put together to make something beautiful. He passionately hopes his instincts are right.
Grune doesn't seem to understand the significance of what he's asking, for while she smiles brightly and says, "Oh, yes, that's very pretty. I'm sure she'll love it," it's not the reaction he had been anticipating.
And so, blushing, he spells it out: "I'm going to ask Selphie to marry me tonight."
He has just enough time to snap the ring case shut before he's caught up in a strong, excited, and (oh Crystals) soft hug.
As he's trying to free himself—or at least find a place to put his face that wouldn't involve being quite literally shot down in flames by Selphie—she exclaims, "Oh, that's wonderful! Congratulations!"
"I-I haven't asked her yet," he manages to get out.
She only hugs him all the tighter. "Oh, I know she'll say yes."
He very nearly asks her how she can be so certain, but he stops himself. Even when he's doubted himself and the possibility of becoming more than the son of Cecil and Rosa, Grune has always believed in him. It's not enough to calm his fears, but it does give him a little courage.
And so he hugs her back and actually comes up with a smile. "Thank you."
Maybe he'll be all right.
(*)
Ceodore is a sweet boy. He has a kind, brave heart, and he's very determined. She knows that one day, when he goes back home to Baron, he'll do wonderful things.
Especially since he'll have a very smart wife at his side, helping and protecting and loving him every step of the way.
Fandoms:
luceti, Tales of Legendia, Final Fantasy IV: The After Years, Final Fantasy IV, Final Fantasy VIIIGenre: Gen
Rating: PG
Words: 1578
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the above fandoms.
Summary: One way the friendship between Ceodore Harvey and Grune might have developed.
Author's Notes: You know you're behind in posting fic when the character you wrote a tribute fic for comes back to the RP before you can post it. :D;;
This wound up a fair bit sadder than I had intended it, since, um, now Ceodore and Selphie don't remember each other. W-Whoops? So much for my fluff.
#1 and #2 are based on threads that we didn't get to finish, due to health complications on Althea's side and slowness on mine. #3 was written long before the True!Grune plot, so I'd expected way more people to be awkward with Grune afterwards. XD;; #4 is, uh.... So, you know, when you write fics and then don't post them for months? Sometimes you write the same idea twice without realising it.
So yes, while I did change things around somewhat, #4 is awfully similar to a scene between Grune and Ginia I wrote second but posted first. I considered writing something else to replace it, but in the end, I figured the set-up was generic enough that it could stand. So, well, yup.
And that's enough talking. Enjoy?
Grune is an odd one. She's one of the kindest people he's ever met, in Baron or Luceti, but she's still odd, in many, many ways.
He never can quite decide if her complete, unshakable belief in him is her oddest trait of all.
He pounds the dirty ground of the Battle Dome hard enough to bruise his fist and lets out a yell that shames him with how close it is to tears. Still not good enough, still never, ever good enough, he'll never—
"Ceodore?"
His head snaps around, and then he's scrambling to his feet and gritting his teeth to dry his eyes, because there's Grune behind him, looking incredibly out of place in the training grounds. She's calm and peaceful, and he's suddenly extremely aware that he's sweaty and dirt-smudged and entirely in disarray.
"L-Lady Grune. Forgive me—I didn't realize you were here."
She advances from the doorway, looking about curiously, and he realizes that for all hers is the house closest to the Battle Dome, he's never seen her in here. Had she followed him?
He pushes his damp hair from his forehead (and prays he doesn't smell too much) when she stops in front of him. A moment later, her gaze comes to rest on him and she smiles.
"That's all right. You were busy."
It slips out before he can stop himself: "Busy losing to a simulation, yes."
There's sympathy in her expression now as she says, "Don't worry. I know you'll do it the next time."
He doesn't—he's far too conscious of her gaze on him to give the following battle his full attention—but he does the time after that, and her applause is a balm for his wounded self-confidence.
"Lady Grune, you dance very well," he complements her, just a little more formally than usual. The ball is bringing out a side to him that rarely has a place in Luceti. "Who was your teacher?"
By now, he isn't surprised when her response is to place her finger against her cheek and muse, "Hmm. . . . I wonder."
"It's all right," he tells her before her mind has the chance to wander too far. He's learning. "I was only a little curious."
He's also curious as to why her gaze is drifting upwards, but the moment he glances in the same direction, he's nearly tripping over his feet to back away.
Too late. Grune takes him by both shoulders, thereby trapping him beneath the mistletoe, and leans down to kiss him on the cheek.
"There," she says in satisfaction.
His face burning scarlet—damn his pale skin! —he scans the room, relieved to discover no one looking their way. If Selphie had seen that, he would never have had a moment's peace again. Her cackling would have haunted his ears for the rest of his life.
When he finds her tending to the Memory Garden alone, he hesitates. It hasn't been very long at all since that week when she had become an entirely different person. She hadn't been sweet and warm and absentminded—that wasn't her real self at all. Grune was. . . . If he was completely honest with himself, Grune was frightening. And maybe she's gone back to being gentle and kind, but he can't forget the side to her that could come back at any time.
He watches her carefully pull a weed from the midst of some brilliant gold crocuses, and he wonders—how many of her friends feel the same right now?
He gathers his courage and takes in a breath, then goes to kneel on the ground next to her.
"Hello, Lady Grune," he says with a smile. "Would you like some help with the weeding?"
The tired expression he glimpses before her answering smile slips into place strikes him with guilt, but when she answers, "Hello, Ceodore! That would be very nice—thank you," he feels better for ending their separation as soon as he did.
The wound along his arm is bleeding faster than he expected, and he can feel himself weakening, but he can't even manage a Cure. He'd be worried for himself, especially with two Third Party soldiers closing in on him, but he quite simply doesn't have the time.
. . . Or didn't, until a wall of water passes through him and bears away one soldier. The other is sent stumbling, giving him time to dart under his current opponent's guard and finish her. He glances behind himself for his saviour and—
"Lady Grune?" Had he known she could fight?
"Hello, Ceodore!" she calls, somehow still cheerful despite the endless fighting and death surrounding them.
He immediately falls back to protect her, and not too soon, for the remaining soldier has regained his balance and is making for them.
He engages the man but remains alert for other approaching soldiers. As he does, he hears the scrape and crack of ice and a scream that ends suddenly. The soldier in front of him flinches, and that's all he needs to end his life as well.
He looks back as quickly as he dares with his growing dizziness to see how Lady Grune is handling those deaths. He finds her with a pool of light at her feet and—there, a soldier who had slipped under his guard, preparing to strike—
"Lady Grune!" he cries and catches the blow on his blade.
This soldier is far too strong for him, as weakened as he is, and he can only pray that she finishes the spell quickly.
"Brilliant Lance."
He stumbles back as four massive spears perhaps taller than even his uncle strike down from the sky. There's a circle made of light on the ground and a flare, and the soldier falls down dead before them.
He sways and staggers, and strong, warm arms catch him.
"Here," Grune says, and pain he recognizes by its absence is soothed away. A moment later, he's able to stand on his own.
He bows. "Thank you."
She smiles and bows back. "You're welcome. And thank you!"
There's no time for any further words. They turn to face the next enemy, and as he settles into a guard stance in front of Grune, the battle does not look so hopeless any longer.
"Grune," he says, because the time for titles is long past. "Could I ask your opinion on something?"
Her response is immediate and exactly as he expected. "Oh, yes, of course. What is it?"
"I'll meet you at your house," he attempts to say calmly over the pounding of his heart. "I-Is that all right with you?"
"Yes, that's just fine. I'll see you soon!"
He closes the journal on her smiling face, kisses Selphie goodbye, avoids her curious questions as best he can, and walks the short distance to House 34. Though it takes little time to arrive, his fingers are stiff from clenching the tiny box in his pocket anyway.
Grune is outside watering her vegetable garden, and it's clear she's already forgotten he was coming, judging from the pleased yet surprised tone she greets him with.
"Oh, hello, Ceodore! It's such a beautiful day, isn't it?"
"It is," he agrees, and oh, he hopes he'll be able to say as much after this evening.
He looks over his shoulder—fortunately, House 34 is secluded and they're unlikely to be seen—then pulls out the box he's been holding in his pocket. He opens it and she leans in, curious.
"Grune, do . . . do you think Selphie would like this ring?" he asks with a dry mouth.
He's already asked Mother and Father, and a few close friends besides, but he wants to be sure. He wants to get this right.
The ring is small, gold, and delicate, a diamond flanked by two tiny sapphires. Yellow and blue—their colours put together to make something beautiful. He passionately hopes his instincts are right.
Grune doesn't seem to understand the significance of what he's asking, for while she smiles brightly and says, "Oh, yes, that's very pretty. I'm sure she'll love it," it's not the reaction he had been anticipating.
And so, blushing, he spells it out: "I'm going to ask Selphie to marry me tonight."
He has just enough time to snap the ring case shut before he's caught up in a strong, excited, and (oh Crystals) soft hug.
As he's trying to free himself—or at least find a place to put his face that wouldn't involve being quite literally shot down in flames by Selphie—she exclaims, "Oh, that's wonderful! Congratulations!"
"I-I haven't asked her yet," he manages to get out.
She only hugs him all the tighter. "Oh, I know she'll say yes."
He very nearly asks her how she can be so certain, but he stops himself. Even when he's doubted himself and the possibility of becoming more than the son of Cecil and Rosa, Grune has always believed in him. It's not enough to calm his fears, but it does give him a little courage.
And so he hugs her back and actually comes up with a smile. "Thank you."
Maybe he'll be all right.
Ceodore is a sweet boy. He has a kind, brave heart, and he's very determined. She knows that one day, when he goes back home to Baron, he'll do wonderful things.
Especially since he'll have a very smart wife at his side, helping and protecting and loving him every step of the way.
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