Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Rating: R, possible incest implications
Author's Note: Sorry this is a week late! My muse refused to cooperate until now, but I hope hamimifk will enjoy the belated present.
This picks up shortly after the Pharos sequence, when Fran collapsed from the Mist.
"Look after her, will you? Vaan's not ready to fly in a Mist-storm."
"I will." Penelo buckled the last safety strap across Fran's chest, grabbing the edge of the bunk as the Strahl pitched forward. "Balthier, hurry."
The door closed. Fran reached out blindly, claws skipping across the girl's cheek. Penelo covered Fran's fingers with her own, keenly aware of those long nails and the possibility of a mist-maddened frenzy. It hurt her to see the eerily self-possessed huntress trembling and unseeing, her bronze skin clammy with sweat.
"Fran," Penelo said, soothing with her thumb. "Hold on. We'll be out of it soon."
"My sister? The mist...it flows wide...the skies' terror feeds..."
The hair on Penelo's neck prickled. Fran was lost in trance, but she must see something. "Fran?"
Fran mewled and began to struggle against the straps, just as the Strahl dove in a sickening drop that rammed Penelo's temple against the bulkhead. The girl fell awkwardly across Fran's body. The Viera's arms wrapped around her waist, saving her from another hard knock as the ship lurched again. Stunned, Penelo buried her face in Fran's feathery hair until the throbbing eased.
"Mjrn," Fran said. "I have missed you." Soft lips nuzzled the girl's ear.
Penelo knew she should move away, but it was suddenly difficult to command her limbs. She was keenly aware of full breasts (and the pinch of scarcely-protective armor), toned curves, the scent of rich earth, the prick of claw-tips caressing her back. The Viera was not the only one trembling. Penelo wanted so badly to turn her head, kiss— no, she mustn't, not now, while Fran mistook a drab hume-child for one of her lovely sisters.
With a sigh, Penelo forced herself to sit up, tingling. Tears glistened on Fran's cheeks. Penelo couldn't stand it; she bent to kiss the woman's brow. A hand seized her chin and drew her lower. Warm mouths met and melded in a slow, loving, knowing kiss, as if they had been lovers a hundred years, two old souls vined together in the sun. Dazed, Penelo wondered if this was mist-madness. The hand cupping her chin loosened. She pulled away to breathe. Fran stretched under her, languid, and met her blushing gaze with a fond smile.
"There was no need to strap me down, Penelo; I would you had asked sooner."