Shuyin had existed for countless generations, living with the grief that had come to him when he and his Summoner, the woman he loved, had died in front of Vegnagun. Ages later, he'd risen again to take control of the massive Machina, and tried to lay waste to a Spira he couldn't help but hate. How dare they continue on and forget what had happened? How dare those worthless peons forget the sacrifices made by the people of Zanarkand in their resistance of Bevelle's tyannical lust for conquest? He fairly seethed with anger, and even after Yuna and her posse had put an 'end' to him, he remained.
Hatred. Grief. Anguish. These things were eternal, and Shuyin was proof of this.
His presence lingered in the ruined Blitzball arena, his favorite locale of old, unless he'd had the choice to attend a function Lenne would have sung at. Her voice was something he delighted in.. or had delighted in, before she'd been gunned down trying to stop him.. From ending Bevelle.. Was it my fault..? Shuyin dismissed the idea, unwilling to even share an iota of the blame for his lover's demise. He was manifested as a sphere of energy as large as the old Blitzball arena's watery playfield had been, and lingered in about the same spot, tattered rocks and Blitzballs flying about, colliding, being blown to bits and reformed. In the middle there was Shuyin, as he had always been, though his eyes were closed and his head tilted back.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2009-09-07 07:18 pm (UTC)Hatred. Grief. Anguish. These things were eternal, and Shuyin was proof of this.
His presence lingered in the ruined Blitzball arena, his favorite locale of old, unless he'd had the choice to attend a function Lenne would have sung at. Her voice was something he delighted in.. or had delighted in, before she'd been gunned down trying to stop him.. From ending Bevelle.. Was it my fault..? Shuyin dismissed the idea, unwilling to even share an iota of the blame for his lover's demise. He was manifested as a sphere of energy as large as the old Blitzball arena's watery playfield had been, and lingered in about the same spot, tattered rocks and Blitzballs flying about, colliding, being blown to bits and reformed. In the middle there was Shuyin, as he had always been, though his eyes were closed and his head tilted back.