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The Assumption of Roles
Fandom: Final Fantasy VI
Characters: Celes, Gogo
Word count: ~1000
Warnings: Canon-typical angst; oblique reference to canonical suicide attempt; nothing here is intended in a bashy way but uhhhh definitely not taking the rosiest possible view of Locke/Celes or Setzer/Celes here
Notes: For Final Fantasy Kiss Battle 2021: "Gogo/Absolutely Anybody or Gogo & Absolutely Anybody, what you need to see"
"Be Maria," she said, and Gogo was Maria.
Celes had never met Maria, and couldn't assess how well Gogo had captured her likeness. Gogo probably hadn't met her either, unless she'd been much more inclined to vacation inside giant worms than her reputation suggested. Probably Gogo was only matching themself to the portrait on the slipcover of one of those phonograph records Setzer didn't play anymore. Maria as painted there had a full face of stage makeup and an expression Celes found disquieting - she looked passionate, if not about whatever heroic tenor she was singing to, then passionate about the art of counterfeiting it. I would never look like that, she'd thought, indignant. I would never feel that way.
She studied Gogo's likeness of a likeness of this woman she was supposed to resemble, and it didn't help her understand anything. Their features weren't completely dissimilar, but Gogo-as-a-painting-of-Maria had a softer jawline, a rounder face. Under stage lighting it wouldn't matter. It hadn't mattered. "Is this what people think?" she muttered, and Gogo only shrugged.
She turned away. This was pointless. She could just as well ask Gogo to be Rachel, or Daryl, or anyone else's lost love, any of these other women who always seemed to walk where she walked. In uncharitable moments she thought everyone who'd ever looked at her had their choice of other, more congenial faces to lay over hers.
"Be Emperor Gestahl," she said, surprising herself. Surprising, too, that even now she had to clamp her jaw shut on a whole florid string of honorifics. Gestahl gave himself new titles with every conquest, and sometimes just because he felt like it - and he'd had plenty of them even before she had formally entered the military. She remembered a fellow cadet muttering, "Soon his name will take fifteen minutes to say," and the peremptory way that cadet had been clubbed to the ground. At the time she'd thought that a reasonable consequence.
She looked back, at Gogo's entirely passable impression of His Serene Imperial - no. Just Gestahl. Not even that, anymore. Gestahl was no longer a person, but a million disconnected shards of bone, and a symbol of evil. Celes had upheld that symbol a long time, and was still stamped with the mark of its factory.
"Yes," she said, because it felt like something needed saying. "That's what he looked like." Gestahl's eyebrows rose fractionally, and that was all. There was no answer here. A muscle in her forearm was twitching, like her hand wanted her sword. She stilled it. "Gogo," she said, to remind herself the Emperor was dead. "Gogo, please show me the Imperial General Celes Chere."
Gogo hadn't known her back then, but - she had been known, generally. She'd been infamous. Gogo pulled a veil up over Gestahl's face, and straightened. When the fabric came away again there was a woman in dress uniform. Her face was an icicle. Celes stared at her, and neither of them blinked.
Is that what I was? she thought. Is that how I carried myself? Was I ever so certain?
How simple life had been then - how clear. It had been easy, going wherever she was told and killing whoever resisted. There was something contemptible in that. It didn't stop her wanting it back. The knowing. Her throat hurt; her knees threatened to buckle under her, but she didn't let them.
"One last request," she told Gogo. "Be me."
She had hoped for a radical change, or else none at all. But the other Celes shifted just fractionally - her posture marginally less stiff, her face a little older. The other Celes passed a hand over her own brow and left a scar there, where she had struck the rocks. She leached some of the color from her hair. She thawed, but briefly, and refroze much the same.
"You weren't there," said Celes. Her voice surprised her - quiet, too hoarse. "Before. How can you possibly know?"
"How can you know?" Gogo said back to her, in the same voice.
It was a better question than it seemed, and more to the point than she liked to admit. She shook her head. This whole thing was foolish, but she was already committed. Better satisfy her curiosity while she was here, and be cured of the folly. She stepped closer, studying her double's face. It was more than a mirror, and less - Gogo's eyes followed her, but the expression in them didn't change, all calm curiosity. Gogo could have matched her gestures, or her deepening frown, but didn't - only stood still for inspection.
She backed away. "How can you stand it?" she said, finally. "Having so many faces. How do you know what you are?" Her arms folded across her chest, protectively, without her permission.
Gogo's head tilted to one side as if in consideration. It wasn't an attitude copied from Celes, and didn't look natural in her guise - maybe this was a glimpse of the actual Gogo. Or maybe just a riff on someone else, someone Celes had never met.
"Was that... the wrong thing to ask?" she ventured. Gogo was staring at her in silence. "I haven't been in the habit of regarding you as a person. I guess that's hypocritical. You just... do things."
Gogo did something, then. In a gait that was almost like hers, the other Celes approached her - then stopped, and put hands on her shoulders, and lightly kissed her forehead.
Are my lips this dry? she thought. Is this me? Is this Gogo? Is this Gogo's image of me, or someone else's image of my image of myself?
Gogo embraced her - somewhat stiffly, which didn't clear anything up. If she had ever hugged anyone, she could imagine she'd do it awkwardly too.
"I don't understand," she said.
"You don't understand," Gogo agreed - in her own voice, but kind.
Characters: Celes, Gogo
Word count: ~1000
Warnings: Canon-typical angst; oblique reference to canonical suicide attempt; nothing here is intended in a bashy way but uhhhh definitely not taking the rosiest possible view of Locke/Celes or Setzer/Celes here
Notes: For Final Fantasy Kiss Battle 2021: "Gogo/Absolutely Anybody or Gogo & Absolutely Anybody, what you need to see"
"Be Maria," she said, and Gogo was Maria.
Celes had never met Maria, and couldn't assess how well Gogo had captured her likeness. Gogo probably hadn't met her either, unless she'd been much more inclined to vacation inside giant worms than her reputation suggested. Probably Gogo was only matching themself to the portrait on the slipcover of one of those phonograph records Setzer didn't play anymore. Maria as painted there had a full face of stage makeup and an expression Celes found disquieting - she looked passionate, if not about whatever heroic tenor she was singing to, then passionate about the art of counterfeiting it. I would never look like that, she'd thought, indignant. I would never feel that way.
She studied Gogo's likeness of a likeness of this woman she was supposed to resemble, and it didn't help her understand anything. Their features weren't completely dissimilar, but Gogo-as-a-painting-of-Maria had a softer jawline, a rounder face. Under stage lighting it wouldn't matter. It hadn't mattered. "Is this what people think?" she muttered, and Gogo only shrugged.
She turned away. This was pointless. She could just as well ask Gogo to be Rachel, or Daryl, or anyone else's lost love, any of these other women who always seemed to walk where she walked. In uncharitable moments she thought everyone who'd ever looked at her had their choice of other, more congenial faces to lay over hers.
"Be Emperor Gestahl," she said, surprising herself. Surprising, too, that even now she had to clamp her jaw shut on a whole florid string of honorifics. Gestahl gave himself new titles with every conquest, and sometimes just because he felt like it - and he'd had plenty of them even before she had formally entered the military. She remembered a fellow cadet muttering, "Soon his name will take fifteen minutes to say," and the peremptory way that cadet had been clubbed to the ground. At the time she'd thought that a reasonable consequence.
She looked back, at Gogo's entirely passable impression of His Serene Imperial - no. Just Gestahl. Not even that, anymore. Gestahl was no longer a person, but a million disconnected shards of bone, and a symbol of evil. Celes had upheld that symbol a long time, and was still stamped with the mark of its factory.
"Yes," she said, because it felt like something needed saying. "That's what he looked like." Gestahl's eyebrows rose fractionally, and that was all. There was no answer here. A muscle in her forearm was twitching, like her hand wanted her sword. She stilled it. "Gogo," she said, to remind herself the Emperor was dead. "Gogo, please show me the Imperial General Celes Chere."
Gogo hadn't known her back then, but - she had been known, generally. She'd been infamous. Gogo pulled a veil up over Gestahl's face, and straightened. When the fabric came away again there was a woman in dress uniform. Her face was an icicle. Celes stared at her, and neither of them blinked.
Is that what I was? she thought. Is that how I carried myself? Was I ever so certain?
How simple life had been then - how clear. It had been easy, going wherever she was told and killing whoever resisted. There was something contemptible in that. It didn't stop her wanting it back. The knowing. Her throat hurt; her knees threatened to buckle under her, but she didn't let them.
"One last request," she told Gogo. "Be me."
She had hoped for a radical change, or else none at all. But the other Celes shifted just fractionally - her posture marginally less stiff, her face a little older. The other Celes passed a hand over her own brow and left a scar there, where she had struck the rocks. She leached some of the color from her hair. She thawed, but briefly, and refroze much the same.
"You weren't there," said Celes. Her voice surprised her - quiet, too hoarse. "Before. How can you possibly know?"
"How can you know?" Gogo said back to her, in the same voice.
It was a better question than it seemed, and more to the point than she liked to admit. She shook her head. This whole thing was foolish, but she was already committed. Better satisfy her curiosity while she was here, and be cured of the folly. She stepped closer, studying her double's face. It was more than a mirror, and less - Gogo's eyes followed her, but the expression in them didn't change, all calm curiosity. Gogo could have matched her gestures, or her deepening frown, but didn't - only stood still for inspection.
She backed away. "How can you stand it?" she said, finally. "Having so many faces. How do you know what you are?" Her arms folded across her chest, protectively, without her permission.
Gogo's head tilted to one side as if in consideration. It wasn't an attitude copied from Celes, and didn't look natural in her guise - maybe this was a glimpse of the actual Gogo. Or maybe just a riff on someone else, someone Celes had never met.
"Was that... the wrong thing to ask?" she ventured. Gogo was staring at her in silence. "I haven't been in the habit of regarding you as a person. I guess that's hypocritical. You just... do things."
Gogo did something, then. In a gait that was almost like hers, the other Celes approached her - then stopped, and put hands on her shoulders, and lightly kissed her forehead.
Are my lips this dry? she thought. Is this me? Is this Gogo? Is this Gogo's image of me, or someone else's image of my image of myself?
Gogo embraced her - somewhat stiffly, which didn't clear anything up. If she had ever hugged anyone, she could imagine she'd do it awkwardly too.
"I don't understand," she said.
"You don't understand," Gogo agreed - in her own voice, but kind.