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Terra could hear the children laughing and shouting behind her, so giddy with excitement over the thrill of getting to ride an airship that she already knew it would be next to impossible to get them to sleep that night. In a moment she would turn towards them and begin trying to rein them in with gentle reminders of why running around too recklessly when a low railing was the only thing between them and certain death wasn't a good idea, but she knew that Setzer's new crew would keep them safe for her if she took a few moments for herself.
She stood hidden by a row of boxes where none of her children would be able to see her doing something that she would never want them to imitate, clutching the railing so hard that her knuckles whitened and leaning over it as far as she could. When she'd tilted herself so far forward that her toes left the deck and her tight grip was the only thing holding her in place, she closed her eyes and gave herself over to the sensation of the wind tearing at her face and hair.
It was the closest she could get to the feel of flight since Kefka died and took the world's magic with him; still not really at all like the real thing, but close enough to dull the ache inside her at least a little.
There'd been a time when she'd have liked nothing better than to lose the Esper side of her. She'd longed to be normal, to fit in perfectly with the rest of the world and have an ordinary human heart that knew instinctively how to feel all the things it had taken her most of a year to understand. But it wasn't until she really had lost it that she finally truly understood just how much a part of her her Esper heritage was, or how empty she would feel without the magic she'd never even fully recognized the depths of before Narshe pulsing within her.
But it was the flying she missed most of all. Even during the days when she'd felt the worst about her own strangeness she had still loved it, even if she couldn't admit it to herself. There was nothing like throwing herself to the wind and knowing that it would catch her, carry her safely to anywhere she wanted to be. It had been the one wonderful feeling in the world that had been hers alone, as hard for anyone else to grasp as she'd found love or joy. She could have handled losing every other trait that she'd inherited from her father with nothing more than the occasional sting of longing, but losing the sky hurt
She didn't notice herself tilting further and further until a touch on her leg made her open her eyes and she realized that she was almost horizontal, all her weight balanced precariously on her hands, but she wasn't afraid. She might have lost her magic but her muscles still worked, and they wouldn't fail her. She craned her neck around to see who had grabbed her and saw Setzer, holding her ankle as firmly as he'd grip his airship's wheel.
"I hope you realize that if you put me into the position of telling those children why their 'Mama' fell to her doom, they will be learning the phrase 'foolish hypocrite' today," he told her blandly. "I do believe that I heard you warning them all not to lean over the rails when you came on board. Up you come."
"I wouldn't have fallen," she told him with certainty, but allowed him push down on her legs and loop an arm around her waist to pull her fully back down onto the airship. He took a moment to be sure she was fully settled, standing close with one hand on her waist and the other at her back until he was sure she'd found her footing, before he backed away. When she was standing firmly on the deck she gave him a small smile and added, "Besides, aren't you the one who says our fate is in fate's hands? If my hands had slipped it would have been my own bad luck."
"My word," he said, clutching his chest theatrically, "do I hear Terra Branford teasing? But your argument doesn't hold water, my dear; as I did intervene before you had a chance to fall it must have been fate's will that I do so."
"I know better than to argue with you about luck and fate, so I guess I'll have to accept that," she said, though she couldn't resist turning her face towards the wind for just a moment more, to sap up the feel of it as much as she could.
He gently took hold of her wrist like he was just trying to be sure that she wouldn't go shoving herself off the edge again, and when she looked at him again he was watching her closely, his expression surprisingly warm. "You do realize, Terra, that you don't need to make excuses about taking the children up for a special treat if you want a chance to fly, don't you? You're welcome on board any time you wish, just send word and I'll be on my way." His grip slipped from her wrist to her hand, and he squeezed it briefly, melancholy flashing through his eyes though his expression otherwise remained unchanged. "I know what it's like to lose your wings."
She looked from his face to their hands and found herself smiling. Yes, she supposed that he did, though he'd been lucky enough to gain a new set. One which he was offering to share with her.
She'd been wrong to think that the wonder of flight had been hers alone, and she really should have known better.
But all she said was, "I think that I'll take you up on that offer. But you might find yourself regretting it with how often I'm likely to call on you!"