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Melodies

Jun. 30th, 2010 06:08 pm
[identity profile] electrumicity.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] bifolding
Title: Melodies
Fandom: Final Fantasy XIII
Pairing: Cid/Rygdea
Rating: PG-13
Notes: A series of drabbles using themes based on musical terms (yoinked from [livejournal.com profile] 18coda), showing different facets of Cid and Rygdea's relationship. Originally, they were going to be 150 words each. Three drabbles in, I realized I couldn't stick to that, so most of them are between 150 and 200 words, with one or maybe two exceptions.



1. a cappella (Italian: a, in the manner of + cappella, chapel, choir)
one or more vocalists performing without an accompaniment~alone

There was something both comforting yet aggravating about Rygdea's constant presence around him. Cid wondered if to him, being in a relationship apparently meant that you had to stalk the other person to show affection. It would certainly explain why Rygdea would spend most of his downtime (and even times when he should have been working) in the Brigadier General's office, chatting aimlessly or tossing pencils at the ceiling in order to see how long he could make them stick there, despite Cid's attempts to ignore him and focus on his own work. And it certainly wasn't helping the rumors swirling around about them that had already since been floating around, much to his annoyance. What bothered him more than anything was how he felt in the times that Rygdea wasn't around. While before he was more than happy being alone, things were leaning more towards the side of eerily quiet rather than peaceful. When had he come to actually prefer that noise?



2. cadence (Latin: cadēns, cadent-, present participle of cadere, to fall)
a sequence of chords that brings an end to a phrase, either in the middle or the end of a composition~ending, steady

Cid wished that he knew when and how things would ultimately end. It always seemed to bother him on some level every time he saw Rygdea smiling at him, because sooner or later, the inevitable reveal of his betrayal was going to crush it. Getting closer to the man than he had ever intended on only helped to further complicate the matters; now the betrayal was even more personal, and his selfishness would only serve to hurt the man further. Being a l'Cie was no different than having a terminal illness, and to get this close to him now of all times without telling him of his condition was nothing more than pure selfishness. Rygdea was one giant wrench thrown into his steady walk towards the inevitable, and he wished that he knew how to make it so that it would not end in the worst possible way.



3. canon (Latin: a measuring line, rule, model)
a musical form where the melody or tune is imitated by individual parts at regular intervals. The individual parts may enter at different measures and pitches. The tune may also be played at different speeds, backwards, or inverted.~twisted imitation

"You shoulda told me earlier, Cid."

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"But don't ya?"

Rygdea has never been this close before; close enough so that his words can practically be felt as much as they are heard. It isn't that he's uncomfortable. Far from it. In fact, it's welcome, even though he knows better. The brunet grasps his chin and forces Cid to look down at him, at the smirk on his face and the telltale sign of lust in his eyes. "You're too damn obvious, even if ya pretend you're not. D'ya think we could go all these years without me bein' able to tell what you've got on your mind?"

He doesn't respond, any possible words dying in his throat when Rygdea brushes his thumb against his lower lip. If he speaks, it's likely just going to be about what a bad idea this is, how ridiculous the both of them are being...

Rygdea leans in closer now, practically standing on tiptoe in order to brush his lips against Cid's ear. "You're not as cold and uncrackable as ya wish. Even you've got your soft spots, hm?"

He's right. Cid hates it, but he's right. His eyes are shut tight, and one hand moves up to hover just inches away from Rygdea's face.

"...but don't ya think you should be a little more... focused?"

He jerks away as if he's touched fire. Cid doesn't need to open his eyes to see who is standing there before him now, doesn't even need to hear the shift in voice to tell him. He says nothing. Nothing can be said, and all he can do is try to push down what rage, humiliation, and disgust that has built up in him.

"You're so terribly easy to play with, my little pawn. Do not think that a single thought of yours goes unnoticed by me. I need not go so far as to make any threats, but do take care not to drag other pieces onto the board, hm?"

He waits until he is alone once more to slam his fist against the wall, but he knows more than ever that the room is never really empty.



4. dolce (Italian: sweet)
Sweet or sweetly

Being close friends with his superior officer, Rygdea was privy to information that no other was, one of such pieces being that Cid had quite the sweet tooth. He came across this while visiting the man's office one day, not bothering to knock. The Brigadier General had yet to notice him, so Rygdea took the time to amusedly stare at the scene before him: Cid with one glove off popping what seemed to be the last of a sizable box of chocolates into his mouth. That he looked so content, an expression he rarely saw, gave Rygdea a mixture of amusement and a bit of contentment himself. That Cid proceeded to look utterly embarrassed, shoving the empty box away and muttering something about knocking when he realized he wasn't alone only helped to add to it all, and Rygdea knew now what to purchase the next time he went shopping.



5. fermata (Italian: past participle of fermare, to stop; Latin: firmāre, to make firm)
hold or pause~goes on and on, stuck

"—ah, Cid, that—... ...why the hell'd ya stop?"

"I wanted to take a good look at you."

"You can take a good look at me when you get yourself movin' again!"

"It's rather distracting, though..."

"Damnit, take a fuckin' photo of me and look at it later if you can't multitask!"

He could only laugh when he felt the heels of Rygdea's feet kicking hard at his back. He couldn't help it; teasing Rygdea was entirely too much fun, even during something like this. Maybe even especially during something like this. He reached down to brush a sweat-soaked lock of hair out of Rygdea's face in order to get that aforementioned look at him. Somehow, the clearly irritated expression only lent to it all, and he did his best to keep himself from laughing again when he saw the younger man's brow furrow further at his clear amusement.

"...swear, I'm gonna kick your ass so hard that you'll think you were the one gettin' fucked here..."

Cid narrowly avoided a fist aimed at his face when he started once again cracking up.



6. ostinato (Italian: obstinate)
indicates a part that repeats the same rhythm or melodic element~won't move on, stubborn

He couldn't have betrayed them all, because it didn't make any goddamned sense. Rygdea refused to accept it. Cid's sudden disappearance had him worrying enough about the man, but finding out that he had just been installed as Primarch of all things was enough to twist a knife in him. All of the Cavalry was understandably angry, hurt, but none more than Rygdea. The feelings had no direction, which made it worse; was he angry at Cid for what he did, or from keeping something from him, or at himself for not seeing through him? No, he ultimately decided. It didn't matter, because Cid couldn't have betrayed them. This was not the Cid he had known for the last several years, the man he had worked under, the only reason he had stayed in the military to begin with. There had to be a reason. He wouldn't accept that what he had so strongly believed in was little more than a lie. Cid couldn't have betrayed him.



7. grave (Latin: gravis, heavy)
slow and serious

Each passing minute felt as if an eternity to him; he was sure that being (or staying, as it were) crystallized would have given him a faster sense of time. If he wasn't a man on death's row before, he certainly was now. The main difference was that unlike before, there was no coming back from this. There was not going to be any spark of inspiration, any sudden motivation to break out of the inevitable. He welcomed it now more than anything else. He had failed yet again and there was not going to be another chance. All that could be done now was to wait. Sit, and wait for Rygdea to show and confront him, because he knew that the man was on his way. If the man was as good of a friend as he claimed to be, he would grant him this last release, and time would have no meaning anymore.



8. incidental music
background music for a play, movie or television show. It sets the mood and illustrates the action for a play~unnoticed

It was there, whether Cid was oblivious to it or not. Knowing how encompassed the man was by his work and the intensity of his focus on it, it might have been too much for Rygdea to expect him to realize just was going on, even if it seemed plainly obvious to himself. It felt as if no amount of subtle flirtation—and he couldn't go anything past subtle, not yet—was going to get Cid to understand the growing tension between the pair. There were times when Rygdea wished he could just forget about the whole thing and move on with his life. Clearly, even if Cid did clue into the advances he was making, the chances of him easily going along with it (fraternization, at that!) were ridiculously slim. Then again, Rygdea always did find easy boring. It would be his own personal challenge. He'd get him yet.



9. nocturne (Old French: nocturnal; French: "at night")
a quiet, lyrical piece a often with pensive, dreamy mood~what do you do in the dark of night, where no one sees

If ever asked if he had expected this to happen, Cid would not know how to answer. He doubted that he had foreseen that he would be laying there on his bed with Rygdea on top of him, the shorter man tugging off the last stubborn pieces of clothing upon him and grumbling about 'that stupidass uniform'. As he let his hands run down the warm skin of Rygdea's back, Cid vaguely wondered if this was such a good idea in the end after all. With the secrets he himself held, letting another get this close to him wasn't exactly the smartest thing; he was lucky enough that Rygdea hadn't bothered to ask about the bandages on his right hand. The brunet seemed to have his mind firmly set upon other things for now, which Cid supposed was the best case scenario in this sort of situation. Any further thoughts were silenced by the feel of Rygdea's naked form against his own, and as he returned the kiss given to him, he decided that he would worry about it all later.



10. elegy (Greek: song, mournful song)
a lament~mourning, loss

Rygdea had no time to mourn. This was the moment that it all came down to, years of biding their time and waiting for the exact time to strike. Edenhall was so close now and the Cavalry's goal within their grasps. That the single shot that ended what he had so strongly believed in for years still echoed within his head was of no concern. That there was still a sharp pain inside his chest that wasn't from the bullets of PSICOM weapons grazing him could be ignored. The blood splattered against his armor from the point blank shot could be wiped off if anything, but hardly made a difference. The stinging in his eyes was caused by nothing but dust from the many battles going on before him. There were much more important things to worry about than a singular life, he told himself. The more he could keep his mind on that, the less he could think about how part of him had died back in that room along with his commander.



11. rubato (Italian: stolen)
a direction to allow a player a measure of freedom in performance.~a moment to yourself, no pressure, independence

He blamed Rygdea's ridiculous puppy dog eyes for getting him to agree to ride the Ferris wheel at Nautilus. That they were even there to begin with was also the fault of the younger man, as Cid was perfectly content to spend his "shore leave" catching up on some extra work, but Rygdea would be having none of that. He grudgingly followed him to the amusement park city, and was doing his best not to let on that contrary to his complaining, he was having a fairly good time. The Ferris wheel at night, with fireworks lighting up the sky, seemed a scene out of a cheesy romance novel, but more interesting than the fireworks were Rygdea's reaction to them. He looked as if an awestruck child, mumbling about how he hadn't been there since he was young. The brunet moving soon after to sit next to and lean against him was something he couldn't quite complain about either. A moment of sappy romance wasn't so bad after all, he supposed, when it was just the two of them far above the rest of the world.



12. legato (Italian: past participle of legare, to bind, tie together)
in a smooth, even style without any noticeable break between the notes~slipping away

That Cid seemed to be growing more and more distant from him in the past several weeks concerned Rygdea deeply. Some kind of incident had happened—whatever it was led to the man all but locking himself inside his office for close to a week, barely saying two words to anyone, even Rygdea. It was as if he had just been given a death sentence, because the brunet knew no other word to describe the look he now often saw on his superior's face than 'haunted'. No matter how many times he would try to find out what was going on, Cid would pull farther away. It frustrated him to no end. His commander, no, his friend was slipping quickly out of his grasp, and tightening his grip only seemed to aid that process. All he could do now was hope that Cid would open up to him before it was too late, whatever it even was.



13. sempre (Italian: always)
In the same manner throughout~doesn't change

Most of the men in the Cavalry had a certain belief: that the only predictable thing about Captain Rygdea was his unpredictability. No one knew when he would be a serious, focused soldier or a complete slacker, when he would be barking like a boot camp sergeant at his underlings or goofing off with them, when he would be disciplining those deciding it was a good idea to play pranks or partaking in them himself. Rygdea had gained a reputation as an erratic whirlwind and was more than happy to play into that role. Cid knew him better than that. While Rygdea's behavior was far from clockwork to him, he had become aware of why he chose to do what he did, one way or another, and he took a certain comfort in that. Besides, the most important things to him about Rygdea were the things that were most steady: loyalty and friendship. While other soldiers were focused on being baffled as to the Captain's odd behavior, Cid was happy to focus on the things that didn't change.



14. vivace (Italian: lively)
To play a piece in a fast,lively tempo.~time goes so fast, you're going too fast

"Don't you think that we...may be moving a little too quickly?"

Rygdea removed his mouth where it had previously been latched onto Cid's neck in order to respond to him with a roll of his eyes. "What're we, grade school children? We've been dancin' around the whole issue of us bein' an us for too long. So unless you're expectin' me to start courting ya and bringin' you flowers and chocolate..."

"Hardly," Cid replied with a low chuckle as he rest his hands on the younger man's hips. "It's only that I was not expecting you to corner me in my room merely three days after you confessed your undying love for me..."

A sharp bite to his neck was given in retaliation. "I did not, so you stop makin' me sound like a little girl!"

Maybe they were moving just a little too fast, but with Rygdea pressed against him the way he was, Cid couldn't muster up the strength to actually complain.



15. senza (Italian: without)
without~I'm lost without; can't do without

Rygdea had never considered himself much of a leader. It wasn't as if he was some sort of meek follower, but leading came with it a heavy set of responsibilities, something that he had never wanted to bother with. It was perhaps why he never tried getting promoted past Captain and was very much happy with his role as second in command; he knew that if he had to take command of the entire Cavalry, chaos would ensue.

Of course, that was what it eventually came down to. Cid's sudden inexplicable disappearance meant that the entire division was under his lead, and no amount of time of being second in command could have prepared him for it. He had certainly picked a fine time to run off, Rygdea thought angrily to himself as he tried to figure out what the Cavalry's next steps would be. First, he figured, he ought to investigate the vague rumors he had heard about there potentially being a new Primarch, and hope that Cid showed his face soon enough so that things could go back into their proper order.



16. Mosso (Italian: moved, agitated)
more, with motion or animation~fighting, leaving

Cid honestly wasn't surprised at Rygdea having cornered him, both figuratively and quite literally. It was only a matter of time, after all. What had been happening between the two of them as of late was a risk he knew he was taking—the closer he got to Rygdea, the harder it would be to keep his mask on properly. Or rather, the more easily Rygdea could read him.

"I'm sick of your 'everything is fine' and 'it is none of your concern' an' all that other bullshit," Rygdea hissed as he shoved the taller man against a wall. "I see the look on your face when ya think no one's lookin'. You're bein' secretive as all hell, more than you've ever been, an' I'm sick to death of it. You're gonna tell me now what the hell's up with ya or I'm gonna..."

"Going to what?" Cid replied calmly, the nonchalant tone only serving to infuriate Rygdea further.

"Fine. Keep your goddamn secrets and shove 'em," the man finally said, anger overriding protocol as he slammed his fist into Cid's face. As he stormed out of the room, Cid let out a sigh. Better a bloodied nose than the repercussions of actually telling him the truth.



17. Ritenuto (Italian: held back)
slow down at once~smell the roses, stop before we go any further

He knew that it was the calm before the storm, so to speak. Maybe that was why he allowed Rygdea to drag him out here, seated on the beach of Bodhum in order to partake in the fireworks festival. Barthandelus needn't have told him that action was going to be taken soon, that he would finally be fulfilling his Focus like the good little pawn he was; he knew it in his heart. Relax, Rygdea said. Breathe. Let yourself go. He didn't complain when Rygdea moved to sit in his lap, only wrapping his arms around the other man and resting his chin on the top of his head. Cid wished that he could tell him the truth, that they likely would never have a moment like this again, to take the time to especially enjoy every moment of it—but he couldn't. All he could do was take his own advice, and when Rygdea turned his head in order to kiss him, Cid put as much passion as he could into it. If nothing else, he would remember the feel of Rygdea's smile against his lips when things were at its darkest.



18. rhapsody (French: rapsodie)
implies a work free in form and inspiration~writer's choice

"...an' that one looks kinda like a chocobo. What do ya think?"

"What do I think? I think that I must be crazy to have let you drag me out here like this."

Cloud watching. Of all the things to do, that had to be done, the two of them were cloud watching. The activity had stemmed from Rygdea's insistence that he was going to make Cid sit down for one day and spend all of it away from work, relaxing. Even if for just one, singular day. And so he found himself laying on the grass with his second in command not too far from where the Lindblum was currently docked, listening to Rygdea try to decide what each cloud in the sky resembled most.

"Don't most people grow out of this by, say, age ten?" he teased, nudging Rygdea's shoulder and ignoring the hard shove he got in return. As silly as it was, there was something about the absolute simplicity of this all that made him think that for a little while, everything was alright.
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