Chocobo Sage's Worst Best Day.
By Seth Fair
I do not own FFVII, nor do I own the rightful names to its many awesome characters and influential places of interest. I am just a boy, embarking on a mission to expand this world. Don't judge… Review! :D
Note: No Chocobo Sages where hurt in the making of this fanfic. That'd just be weird.
The picture was interesting. Though he had been living in this small hut longer than his feeble mind would let him remember, he was intrigued by the picture that hung above the cabinet.
It was fairly large, peeling at all but one corner, but it didn't bother him; it was just a way it expressed its wisdom, its experience.
He sat in front of the fire for several months straight; just sitting. Waiting. Wishing. He would stare into the never-ending vermillion, whipping at the bricks and tickling the top frame of the fireplace.
As he stared, watching the stacked bricks blackening from the soot that the Vermillion whips marked it with, he would sigh. Sigh…
He didn't like to admit it; he actually hated to admit it. Though it was reality, he couldn't bear to accept it as being anything except a long dream.
He was alone.
Sigh… I'm so alone…
Alone…
He turned back to the picture, hanging a few inches away from the fireplace, above the cabinet. He wished he could go back to being intrigued by the golden face, whose sapphire eyes gleamed like a mysterious materia. But he couldn't seem to indulge himself back into the relaxed state he was in. Not after he fought himself to accept that his life was real.
I'm so alone…
He floated down the rickety set of oak stairs, looking at the door with a little sadness. No one had opened that door for a long time; longer than his feeble mind would let him remember.
He floated over the strewn hay, scattered over the rough floor of his small hut. He wasn't taken aback by the silence as he passed over the crunchy hay.
Life becomes a lot more silent when you don't have to walk.
He looked up at his one and only company. The pale green of a shamrock-shake dominated his view as the yellow beak sticking out opened.
WARK!
You feel my pain?
WAAARK!!
He looked into the comforting sapphire eyes of his Mountain Chocobo. They gleamed like a mysterious materia, looking back in his. He stroked the soft mane of feathers on the back of its neck, as he stroked his long beard with his free hand, his wooden staff brushing against the rim of his green hat.
He gave it a tickle under its beak, passing over the hidden treasure, and proceeded back along the silent crunches of the strewn hay. He walked up the rickety stairs; though old, didn't make a sound. As he began to look back into the mesmerizing vermillion, he heard a soft, wet crunch.
…
He strained his ears.
…
…scrunch…
He didn't know what to do. He was sure he heard it; he didn't want to fight himself. He knew that this was real, it was reality. He quickly straightened his hat, and floated cautiously down the rickety stairs.
He gave his Mountain Chocobo a wink, and it winked back at him; the flash of blue after the wink warmed his mood.
He peered out of the window; frost had obstructed all but one square in his quartered window.
His heart leaped.
As he squinted, he made out what was responsible for the soft, wet crunch that made him happier than he has ever been, atleast, from what his feeble mind allowed him remember.
He watched the young man traversing across the deep snow, walking towards his hut that he had lived in for so long. Each of the young man's soft, wet steps cheering him up more and more.
He quickly turned and pulled open a low and long chest. Many blankets were placed neatly inside; one on top of the other. He pulled out the top blanket; the material was friendly as it sunk between his fingers. It was a pale green. He looked at his Chocobo.
He quickly folded the Mountain Chocobo Feather Blanket over his arm and he stood cheerfully by the door.
Time seemed to stand still. He thought that maybe the young man, whose soft, wet footsteps filled him with bliss, had decided to go back, return to his friends; friends who kept him company when he was alone.
Alone…
He shook his head violently; his green hat shifted atop his head. He didn't want to think like that. He didn't want to go back to the reality he used to live in.
He peered through the window, checking to see if the young man was still there. The blinding snow caused him flinch. He turned away from the window. He saw no man.
Was it just his imagination? Was his mind playing tricks on him?
No. He was a sage; a wise sage, whose trained mind would never do such things to its master.
…
Knock, knock!
His heart gave another leap.
He shifted his hat back into position. He brushed invisible dust of the pale green blanket slung over his arm.
He grabbed the untouched doorknob, twisted, and pulled.
As he caught glimpse of the same young man: his spiky-blonde, gravity defying hair and his purple military attire, he smiled.
He smiled so wide, wider than he had ever smiled before that he couldn't help but close his eyes.
As he smiled, he waited, waited for a voice, for conversation; conversation he longed for so many years, decades, centuries.
Alone…
…
Not any more.
Time seemed to stop. He wasn't sure what to do. Was his friendly approach maybe too much for his travelling friend? Was he coming on too warm and close for a sage? No. He wasn't. If he was, he would know. He was a sage after all. He would know if he was doing something wrong.
Time continued to stand still. Maybe he was waiting for a "hello" or a "hi" as they prefer.
Okay. I'll greet him.
He opened his eyes so fast he thought he missed him. He double took and was dumbfounded by what he discovered. His small hut held no young man; just himself and his Mountain Chocobo.
His Mountain Chocobo; it looked odd. He floated over the silent crunches of the strewn hay, scattered over the rough floor of his small hut. He stroked the soft mane of feathers on the back of its neck as he stroked his long beard with his free hand, his wooden staff brushing against the rim of his green hat.
He gave it a tickle under its beak; it was odd. Something was missing. He tickled again. The gleaming blue eyes of his Chocobo looked sad.
As he tickled under the neck of his Mountain Chocobo, he thought about the young man that never was.
Then it clicked.
What a second…
He felt for the familiar treasure that lay protected under the sturdy green feathers of his pale green friend.
…
He quickly floated over to the window. He squinted as hard as he could, straining. Then, he saw him. He was trudging back, back to his friends, tossing a shiny yellow orb up into the air and catching it in the same hand with precision.
"MOTHERFUCKER STOLE MY ENEMY SKILL!!!" the Chocobo Sage screamed in realisation.
:)