Never Deal With a Dragon.
Disclaimer: okay easy disclaimer. Everything belongs to their respective parties but nothing belongs to me. Not that I wouldn't want to have Vivi captive inside my basement, where I would love him and squeeze him and feed him cookies… Well anyway, there is little to no explanation as to how this story came about save that it was created from two major factors. The naturally rough terrain inside my own mind, and the almost physically painful (no screw almost! During a bunch of the really deep parts about Vivi I forget to breathe! Man that hurts…) love of everything related to the Black Mage people… so oppressed, so abused… *sniff* Damn you Zorn and Thorn! Damn you Kuja!! *shakes a fist* -well anyway, on with the show…
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The hot wind blew from the open doorway, bathing us all in grit as the group of us stood watch in the wide-open pit that was the Hilda Garde 1's resting place. Every few moments we would stop our relentless staring, pulling our eyes from the harsh, glaring light of the entrance and busily brush the dirt from our robes. Blasted sand…
All but me… the sand, annoying as it was when it crept within my clothing, grinding against my skin, faded to nothingness as my eyes slowly began to focus, my amber gaze drawn to the softly gloved center of my own palm. I hadn't done anything even remotely relaxing since I had come to this hellhole in the middle of gods knows where, and it was time to get a little bit of those old creative juices flowing again…
The cold gathered in my palm; sharp, but not unpleasantly so. A faint mist began to rise as the smallest flakes of hoarfrost began to spread across the soft cotton of my glove, raising the surface into faint, angular edges and sheets. It looked pretty, the way the light caught the faint, smooth bits of ice, but it wasn't precisely what I was looking for…
Slowly measuring out a long, faint breath, I twist my palm a little, the ice making faint crackling noises as my fingers curl, the fingertips just starting to glow. The effect is subtle at first, the mist intensifying until it began to pour from my hand, cooled moisture condensing in the air to fall around me, pooling at my feet.
A gentle glow turns my way, a pair of softly shining amber eyes tilted faintly in curiosity. My attention doesn't waver. Now isn't the time, the core had to be stable if everything was going to last more than a few fleeting moments…
Turning, the type A, I didn't know whom at the moment (hard to see at that angle), nudged his friend, his voice respectfully low but excited as he leaned in close to the other first level mage. "Hey look, he's making another one!"
I wanted to smile at them, invite them to watch if they wanted, but I couldn't… not now. It started as a small ball of ice, rather like a hailstone, hanging perfectly suspended in the cool blanket of air in my palm. It had been hard learning that discipline, the fleeting power of air, but it was necessary; the ice couldn't touch my hand or the smooth surface would be ruined, unworkable. It had to stay suspended; a defiance of gravity, and it was, perfectly. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the layers began to overlay themselves upon the minute hailstone in my palm, coating and recoating the small bit of ice until it had grown to about the size of a very small apple, hanging suspended and virgin in its cushion of air. I felt rather than saw the others move up behind me, gazing over my shoulder at the smooth glassy object in my palm. The one to my left, his voice soft, easy, asked in a curious voice. "What's this one gonna be?"
I turn, looking at him from the corner of my eye, half concentrating as I ponder the question. "Hmm, I think… I think this one will be a Chocobo. Yeah… just like that nice mommy Chocobo, before she died. She was pretty…"
A grin crinkles the amber glow of his eyes as he nods a bit. "Wow. That sounds like it's gonna be hard…"
I merely shrug a little, my eyes turning back to the statue, saying absent-mindedly. "All it takes is a little precision, that's all… just a little control over it and a simple blizzard becomes…"
I turned back to my work, my eyes narrowing in concentration as the mist roils in my hand. A subtle sweep of the neck, faintly shaggy with feathers… faintly, just a bit now, there… the head; proud, intelligent. The eyes knowing, seeming to stare directly into your soul. Almost, almost… there, that's great, now for the tail. Bit longer, bit spikier. Almost… hey, that looks pretty good. Feet feet… I begin to hum to myself softly, gently, stroking the rising buds of ice out and down, the toes spreading from nothing to tip themselves in the perfect hooflike claws of the splay footed bird. The Chocobo statue is upside down now, hanging suspended from the prison of air as the last toe suddenly curves into existence, the statue gently settling onto its side as I study it, gathering myself for the most laborious part…
The wind makes a funny buzzing sound as it zips across the ice, small minute scratches appearing in the surface; precision, precision, my eyes narrowing to slits as the wind gently sculpts the last traces into the ice, the soft down of feathers slowly spreading across the body. The others watch, entranced as I work. I don't even notice them, my eyes deep into my task, not out of disrespect, but out of necessity. As far as I could tell, any of us could become artists, if given the inclination, the patience, and of course, the control…
The last scratch was in place, the air around us almost dizzyingly cold. I strained to keep it up, the coldness, as my memory began to search for the last key, crucial spell. I had discovered it just yesterday, a giddy feeling rising in me when I had discovered what I had found…
It had been lying forgotten, abandoned, in Kuja's storeroom. We weren't supposed to be in there, I knew, and I had felt great trepidations at the thought of being found out of line. Oh what Kuja would do to me if he ever found out… And then I had found it. Lying serenely on the floor, a simple bracelet, looking innocuous and plain, the metal surface carved with arcane symbols and tarnished with age. I bent, picking it up, allowing myself to probe at it, discovering its secrets. Occasionally simple clothing or armor contained a hidden secret, closed to the world, waiting to be found. I nearly dropped the item when I found it, hidden deep in the metal. A sense of inertia, of sluggish end, of frozenness without the cold. Could it be, a chronology spell? Slow, no… it felt too firm, too final for slow. Seductive, sinister, the power called to me. I was about to put it back, let it rest where it had fallen, when a thought came to me. An image, choked in sun.
The sculpture had been perfect, sitting serenely on the balcony. A mirror miniature of Mr. 288, looking thoughtful as he always did. He had smiled at me, thanking me for the sentiment. He was so smart, so much smarter than me… But he seemed sad. I was confused, I asked why… He didn't answer at first, just stared at the statue, an ill-defined look on his face…
Then I saw it. The puddle had begun soaking into the floorboards of the porch, the pretty glinting of the sun on ice muted now. It had only been mere moments, a breath of time… and the sculpture was melting already… it sagged, the perfect miniature staff nothing but a nub now, the hat's brim leaking down the face like tears… I had made Mr. 288 sad…
I tried everything I could think of to preserve my pieces… the shade, cool and dark, did not spare them. Cabinets became soaked, yielding up their hidden treasures to inevitability. I even put one in the stream; my fevered mind hoping the chill of the water would preserve my handiwork… The rope noose was empty in five minutes.
I had stared at the bracelet for a long time. If Mr. Kuja found out I had taken it… A shiver took me, rattling through me in trepidation… But then I saw Mr. 288 again, in my mind. He was smiling. Maybe… maybe when I met him again, I could finally give him a sculpture, one that he could look at for a long time… and maybe he would be happy…
Snapping back to reality, I blushed faintly, sheepish at having drifted off again. Always doing that, bad habit… Rattling my sleeve, I shook my wrist, feeling the coolness of the bracelet slide firmly up the inky blackness of my arm, snug and cool against my skin. Smiling softly to myself, I raised my wrist, my eyes sliding closed as I calmed, searching for the center, the power well, deep within me.
My companion turned, curious, his gaze moving away from the sculpture momentarily to the slackness of my wrist, my fingers curled faintly into my palm. His eyes widened a little as he turned back to me.
I faltered, my concentration lagging and ebbing away as I felt the softly gloved hand on my back, pulling at my coat gently. Turning a little, I glanced back at the slightly bigger mage staring at me with faintly worried eyes.
"Where did you get that?"
"I was going to give it back" I reply distractedly, my gaze returning to the careful roiling of mist in my palm. "I've almost got it down. Maybe tonight I'll go put it back after duty…"
His eyes were wide as he took a step back, shaking his head slightly in worry. "You shouldn't have done it. Kuja's gonna be mad…"
I turn to him, imploring him to understand. It was the only way, the only way anything I did would stay, would last… maybe even last beyond me. It was the only way my art would live, instead of fading away… I search for a way to tell him, to make him understand.
He's shaking his head, worried. "Master Kuja- Master Kuja will be angry with you… hey may… hurt you…"
I don't even look up from my work. "Then I'll have to make sure that Kuja will never know…"
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The collar of cloth wreathing my neck, so warm and comfortable a quarter of an instant ago, suddenly wraps around my throat, strangling me as the red cloth suddenly flattens itself under my chin, my head whipping back as I'm wrenched backwards, bending nearly double and about to fall. Cold, smooth knuckles graze the back of my neck as I flail awkwardly in space; one hand claws, the other trying desperately to hold onto my little ice Chocobo. I feel a tail feather crack, shattering under my too firm grip. I'm gonna drop it, I'm gonna drop it! Then I look up, and all thoughts of the perfect little blue white chocobo in my hand flies from my mind as my eyes suddenly snap open in utter, frozen terror.
Kuja's gaze is soft, languid, disinterested. He blinks slowly, gazing down into my eyes with an almost bored expression. His gaze rove over me, studying me as one would study a shiny beetle; faintly interesting, but inevitably not worth the time. The two type A's behind me rise to their feet, shaky and scared, before inching out of the room. I don't even notice, not really. Can't blame them. But their absence leaves a sick feeling in my gut. Or is that master Kuja's knee in my lower back, grinding hard into me as he bends me nearly double in his grip? My hands, like claws, grasp at the air, helpless, useless. Kuja watches apathetically, a look of faintly disapproving contempt marring his flawless, icy features. One hand gently rising to flick an irritating strand of feathery silver hair spilling across one eye, his gaze finally locks with mine. I can't look away, my insides feeling like they're freezing solid within me.
"What, precisely, are you doing?"
My mouth, nearly invisible in the inky blackness of my face, works uselessly for several long seconds. His knee makes its strident presence know as he pulls back harder. I'm finding it harder to breathe, a faint dizziness rising within me.
"G-guarding… M-master Kuja…"
His eyes raise faintly, to the ugly hulk of the Hilda Garde 1 sitting serenely in the simple stone docking bay, the blowing sand outside running in faint streamers upon the docking ground floor.
"Guarding…"
I choke miserably, barely able to get the word out. His hand is terribly cold on the back of my neck. "Y-yeah…"
"Guarding…"A faint smirk takes his face, empty and cold. For some odd reason, that seems to make things worse.
"Guarding. Well now… that's rather funny…"
I stiffen, nearly falling over in shock as a new coolness is introduced to me, via the side of my neck; a coolness, far too sharp, digging harshly into the flesh of my throat.
Kuja continues, his voice almost jovial as he shakes his head a little, easily holding the small, simple knife in his free hand. Bluish purple blood begins to well, leaking slowly down the knife blade as he drags it across my skin a little more. "It's almost rather funny. Because, supposedly, if you were on guard duty, like I ordered you to, well then I wouldn't have been able to sneak up behind you and, oh, say… slit your throat? You see, you would have been watching for that sort of naughty and potentially dangerous behavior, now wouldn't you?" His hand tugs once, firmly, on my collar. I gag, gargling faintly… but nod once, my entire body shaking.
Suddenly his hand jerks, pulling me upwards. My face nearly touches his as he holds me up beside him, his eye boring into mine. I'm frozen, I can't move…
"You think you're so special. So untouchable, do you?" His laugh is soft, his breath warm and smelling of flowers. Had I the ability, I might have wet myself then and there. "I invited, you came. End of story right? A bit of work, a bit of labor, then boom, you have an eternity to live compared to before and then it's so long master is it?"
Shaken, I stand, my back shooting with agony and my eyes wet. Gasping, I stand, off balance and shaking. "M'-s-sorry, Master Kuja,… w-won't happen again…"
Kuja smiled softly to me, his voice almost gentle, a strange contrast to his next statement. "I invited you here. I, into my own house, invited you here with the promise of life…"
Cold lips brushed the side of my face. I felt sick.
"But giving life is only one part of it, my little mage… I am not limited in what I can do…
"I can make you feel death…
"I can make it real for you. Not a fast death, nor easy… but that which you pathetic fools have run so far away from, right into my grip… that, which you have so cutely titled, `stopping'…"
Weight. On my chest. I can't breathe… the dark shadows of the edges of the room slink inwards, drinking in the light. My arms spasm in shock at the sudden sickly rushes running through my system; my hand opens. A sharp crack, a faint sound of tinkling… I don't even notice. It feels like there's something inside of me, sitting on my chest, teeth around my throat and claws digging into my head, directly through the eyes…
I can barely feel Kuja as he lays me down upon the gritty floor, my gloved hands scrabbling slowly at nothing. I can barely hear him as he speaks. My eyes gutter faintly, the light flickering weakly, dimming…
"That is the reason you came back to me, my mindless little puppet. That is the reason you came back… Why you give yourselves to me, willingly, with open arms. Poor little fools… But I think the lesson is over… don't want to go damaging my property any more than necessary, do we?"
Then it stops, as sharply as it had begun. The absence of the feeling, the relief itself, was so sharp it almost served as a pain in and of itself. A ragged sobbing breath leaks from my throat.
Something sharp is digging into my cheek. I can't turn my head. I can't even move… but I can see it. Well, just the tip of it. It's a claw. A hooflike claw, sculpted perfectly out of glassy ice, the appendage snapped off and gruesome looking, lying besides a pile of shattered ice and half melted water. A shadow falls over me, and I look up. I have to. It's just something that's demanded in a situation like that.
"Do you understand?"
"Yes…"
A faint growl takes his voice.
"Yes… master Kuja."
As he walks away, I sit, with difficulty. Everything in me, every limb, every fiber urges sleep, shaken and sore. My hat, dented and torn, doesn't respond to my coaxing fingers, refusing to go back into its proper, familiar shape. I wipe at my face, my sleeve slipping down as I run a delicate glove under the damp amber glow of my eyes…
"-What is that?"
I freeze, my hand going rigid, my eyes going dead. Footsteps…
A hand grasps my wrist, wrenching it behind my back as Kuja, strength unusual in such a fair frame, suddenly strikes out, pushing me to my knees. A squall of pain escapes my throat as my hat falls over my eyes, my knees leaving bluish purple smears on the rough, gritty sand strewn surface of the docking bay.
I shake, utterly terrified as I feel a delicate, cold hand grasp my wrist, sliding up my arm… the bracelet! Oh no…
"Where… did you get this?"
Hatred, malice, anything but the cold emptiness of that voice.
Unthinking, I blurt out the truth, my eyes wild.
"St-store room. Found it… I was going to give it back…" I hated the quaver in my voice, the wetness on my face. I had never been so afraid…
…even when I had first been born…
The man, the broken off section of sword still piercing his belly, carried me down as he fell on top of me, covering me, pinning me as he screamed. I had struggled, wild with terror and the childlike confusion of our newly `born'. There was the sound of battle, of clashing steel and hard cursing, screams and the ever present stink of man and mage blood tainting the air. I hadn't known what it was, what any of it was. All I knew was that I was completely and utterly terrified… The man had died, pinning me, as another fell on top of my feet, soaking my legs in blood and crushing me under their combined weight…
When the rescue party had arrived, they heard me. They must've mistaken me for a human being when they were rolling the bodies off of me, and so didn't react until I had leapt to my feet. Somehow I had managed to dodge the first startled thrust of the sword. They had been going around, finishing off downed mages… but I ran. I ran and ran, hiding and running, eating whatever I got my hands upon and fleeing everyone and everything in my path… It was a while later that I had discovered the other. He was a type A, shaken and wounded… I had helped him recover, hunting for food together and living like rats in the alleyways and shadows…
Then we heard about the village.
Nearly died getting there too; they patrolled the cargo ships too well… nearly found us more than once.
But we had found it… I never should have left…
Kuja's voice snapped out, pulling me back to reality with a crack like a whip.
"Are you a thief now? In my own home…"
"N-no… I wasn't going to keep it… I was just, just…"
He pushed me down. My forehead met the floor, the scrape stinging as my eyes watered, pressed tightly shut.
"This is too much. I have gone along with this ridiculous nonsense far to long… It ends here…" Then I saw it; eyes, watching from the darkness of the doorway, watching me. Amber glows, staring, afraid. I shut my own… Trying not to listen anymore…
"Time for a little… exemplification…"
The first came forth, his eyes muted, dim, as he approached the figure on the floor, against the wall, sitting in a slump, his head down. The one on the floor didn't move, didn't look up, didn't make any acknowledgement that he even knew the other mage was there. Maybe they had him blindfolded? Maybe he was really tired… The straw brim of his hat lay over his eyes, covering his features. He didn't look hurt… but his hands hung strangely, limp.
The first approached softly, silently, his amber gaze worried. Bending gently, he eased to one knee, his eyes on the hunched figure of the type B before him, sitting sprawled on the floor. "H-hey… are you okay? Kuja… didn't hurt you much, did he?"
Another figure at his back muttered worriedly to himself, kneading his fingertips together. "I told him he shouldn'tve done that… I told him Kuja would be mad…"
The one protesting suddenly jostled forward, pushed faintly from behind. "Don't say that! Can't you tell he's in pain?"
The first, his voice faint, whispered slightly in a faintly disturbed voice. "No, not really…"
"What?"
"Not pain. He's not… hurt… But something's wrong…"
Bending, the first, concern in his amber eyes, shifted to one knee, attempting to look under the hat, his hand moving forward to comfortingly squeeze the smaller, thinner mage's shoulder.
"H-hey, it's going to be all right… he didn't hurt you much, did he?"
"…"
"Um, h-hello? You can wake up now, he's not here…"
"…"
"Something's wrong." Turning back, he glances down at the mage. His hand firms on the smaller one's shoulder.
"Hello?"
"…"
"Come on now. Wake up willya??"
"…"
"Answer me!!"
His arm gives a firm, bone-grinding shake. Expecting a cry of pain, expecting a retreat, a squall of fear, of misery, he pulls back, his eyes going wide as the body just… falls over.
Rolling limply on its side, the mage slumps over, his arms splayed like a lifeless marionette and his eyes empty, empty…
Silence. The first mage stares, his eyes wide…
"NO!!"
Shaking the limp body frantically, he calls out, wrenching the smaller mage about.
"WAKE UP! WAKE UP!!!"
The other mages manage to drag him off after a moment; their hands disappearing under his hood to muffle his ragged sobbing screams as the look around, worried. Not wanting him to come.
Limbs lifeless and mechanical, the small, frail bodied mage pulls himself up, eases back into his sitting position, and sinks back down into the same slumped posture, his eyes staring unfocused at a small, insignificant spot on the floor.
A small dampness, a small darkness on the stone, nearly gone now…
A dampness mirrored for only the briefest of moments in the small mages wide, empty eyes.
Wheeew boy. First fic, rattled off before school… (shakes head) Okay, I know I'm new, and unfamiliar here. The lot of you are probably wondering to yourselves, `who the heck is this chump? What's she doing here? Get her! Lynch her! String'er up! Yeah yeah get the feathers! The tar! Yeah yeah, the scorpions! Get Quina! (noo! Not Quina! ^_^ man that TONGUE.) Heh well anyway, maybe it won't be THAT bad... this is my first ffIX fic, and won't be my last. It was just an idea or two that got jammed together in the celestial confusion of my head. Please please tell me all what you think of it, even if it's as harsh as `you blithering idiot! Black Mages don't act that way! And Kuja is WAY to straight in this one! WHAT ARE YOU THINKING??' (oh and I know that there probably isn't a bracelet that teaches stop, but I really didn't feel like digging up a weapons and armor list, sorry *shrugs*) …hopefully it's not quite that, but we'll see where things go. You can spew up all your diseased rantings at sad_mudokon@hotmail.com and leave me to clean up the mess J
I'm also an artist, so I guess we'll see where things go from here too. I was so awed by the stories I found on this site… truly inspiring.
Viva Vivi! All hail the Vivinator! *bows to the great one*
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