Title: Affinity
Fandom: Vagrant Story
Characters/Pairing: Sydney Losstarot/John Hardin
Rating: G
Length: 1100ish words
Summary: The composition of Hardin's soul, the balance of its energy, means that healing magic will never come easily to him. Sydney explains, and ponders why.
Notes: The battle/magic system in this game plays a LOT with elemental affinities and their counterparts, and I do so love integrating game mechanics into worldbuilding via fanfic. ;)

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Sydney had been granted many gifts through the Dark which were less obvious to others than his heartseeing, his immortality, his ability to summon and maintain control of greater beasts. One such subtle gift was his ability to see auras - the manifestation of elemental affinities in those about him. At a glance, he could tell which of his newest acolytes might excel at particular magicks; this one might call no more than a flicker of flame after weeks of practice, this other might be capable of setting a village on fire by accident if not properly trained in the arts; yet the first may strike an enemy with sharp shards of the firmest ice, where the second could manage only a mild chill in the air. Each creation of the gods had its own balance, a combination of opposing forces, and the Dark could not change that.

Thus when he heard the question raised in Hardin's heart, Sydney already knew the answer he must give.

Hardin did not ask immediately. He himself had been healed from what should have been a mortal wound once, and had since seen Sydney do the same to others among their kin, let alone many more minor injuries sustained during their skirmishes with the knights.

It was not until after their travels through the countryside had caused them to pass close to a village, where Sydney had chanced to learn of a young woman suffering from a fever that seemed likely to claim her life, that the question overflowed from Hardin's heart to his tongue. "Sydney," he asked quietly that night, as they sat together by a small fire, sharing a meal under the cover of darkness. "When may I learn the spells you used tonight?"

Sydney could have answered before Hardin had asked; the answer was such that he had hoped he might avoid having to give it. "You cannot."

As he'd expected, Hardin was taken aback. "...I know that none among us has such power in the Dark as you," he conceded. "But although I do not have your power, you have told me that my power is great. That few can summon creatures, as you have been teaching me to do - but I have seen some of our brethren who claim to have very little power heal each other's wounds in battle. Yet you have taught me only the most minor of healing spells."

"Because they are all you can easily manage," Sydney stated. "Each soul has its own strengths and weaknesses, balance and counterbalance. It would take much patience and effort to for one to go against the nature granted him by the gods. You are a creature of earth and fire and darkness, dear Hardin," he told him, shifting where he sat on the ground to face him, to take in the invisible shine of the elements that glistened around his partner, a blend of colors and tones that did not quite correspond to those which could be seen with the eyes. "And yes, your power is indeed great. With practice, I believe you will be capable of greater magicks than any other among our brothers and sisters. But your strength in the darkness comes at the expense of the light, and the light is the element of healing; though you have the capacity and the will, you lack the affinity to draw on so much of the light as would be necessary."

Hardin frowned. He was, after all, still a student, and he had listened to Sydney's lessons on the elemental forces before, but... "And that's all there is to it?" he asked. "I am just... incapable, and it's not something I can learn in time?"

"You might learn more potent healing spells, in time," Sydney replied. "For you, so strong in the darkness, learning a spell to heal even a moderate wound - one that would heal on its own within a fortnight - would take far more work than, say, learning to summon a dullahan. Furthermore, casting it would leave you more weary."

This was a comparison Hardin understood all too well, having been taught to summon so recently. Sydney could hear the surprise and the moment of skepticism in his heart, then the resignation: If he says it is so, it must be true, for I cannot imagine any reason why he would want to have fewer willing healers among us.

Hardin believed, and he trusted - but he was no less disappointed. There was no reason for Sydney to give a verbal answer to the question Hardin had really been asking, deep in his heart; even had the two of them happened to meet years before, even with further years of practice, Hardin would not have been able to heal his brother from the illness that had taken his life.

And perhaps that was the mercy of the gods, Sydney pondered as he lay in Hardin's arms under the breaking light of dawn, after the fire had been put out. Already Hardin suffered enough regrets over his brother's fate, continuing to second-guess decisions that had already been made, their consequences already fully realized. It might have driven him further into self-recrimination if Hardin also had cause to believe that he could have saved his brother, had he only come to the knowledge of the Dark sooner. Perhaps in creating the unique balance of the soul that was to become John Hardin, the gods had taken care to protect him from that manner of doubt, removing all possibility of could have or should have.

Or maybe it was a different sort of balance to Hardin's soul, Sydney thought when he woke later in the morning to the bright glare of sunlight in his eyes, streaming down upon him like the fire that he had just seen raining from the heavens. Hardin's arm, ordinary and warm and physical, supported him; Hardin's fingers brushed the traces of tears from his cheeks, and his voice murmured kind words and reassurances that seemed a sort of spell all their own, soothing and calming as Sydney caught his breath - a drowsy incantation to dispel the dreams and the terror they inspired.

"Not yet, Sydney... It's just you and I, I'm here with you now. ...And it won't happen. The gods are with you, and so am I. We will stop it. I swear we will stop it, you and I."

Perhaps this was why the gods had not seen fit to give Hardin the talent for healing magicks, Sydney thought, curling against Hardin's side until the trembling subsided. Each soul had its own strengths and weaknesses... and Hardin's was strong enough in healing without the use of any spell.