a/n: This is a crossover fic; Final Fantasy X and British Comedian RPS (Charlie Brooker, David Mitchell and Robert Webb).
Rating: PG-13 - Bad language, courtesy of our Charlie (of course).
Disclaimer: The characters within do not belong to me. Although it's a crossover fic, it is also part RPS, so if you object to this in any way, please do not read on.
The outside of Djose Temple was vaguely impressive, Charlie had to admit. He didn't necessarily enjoy making such admissions, but the dome-shaped building had a certain symmetry and danger about it, accentuated by the fact that lightning was crackling from the roof like a thunderstorm, though it was not raining. The crack of thunder filled his ears so much so that he was taken by surprise by a pair of Al-Bhed patrolling the area against Fiends.
"What business?" the first said in broken Spiran. His friend towered over him, looming towards Charlie in a threatening manner.
He could probably snap me like a twig, Charlie thought. I'd wager a lot that his blood isn't full Al-Bhed. "I have no business here, I was just passing through." He waved towards the road which twisted back the way he came. "I saw the lightning and wondered, is all." He waved his pack at the speaker, who had the appearance of a Captain. "See? Just a harmless writer."
The pair conferred with each other. Charlie had picked up enough Al-Bhed in his time to catch a few words here and there – Yevonite, Summoner, no danger – he ground out a smile. No danger. Yeah, that was him all over.
The Captain nodded towards him, his disposition instantly more friendly. "Free to move, to look. Not go inside, hear?" His friend glowered, and Charlie nodded.
"Sure, I won't go inside. Thanks," he said. Not like I could get anywhere near the place anyway, there's obviously a Summoner in there. Crazy people, Summoners. He shook his head and decided that eating a late lunch outside the Temple might not be a bad idea. He perched upon a rock that was more flat than pointed and pulled out a bedraggled piece of meat. He placed it atop a piece of stale flatbread and took a huge bite, trying his hardest to ignore the smoky Zu flavour and the fact that the bread was less than healthy. It was food, he told himself sternly. And bad enough that you had to nick it from those sleeping bandits. Imagine if they'd caught you! He chewed grimly. Better not to think about the consequences of that. He found himself all too able to imagine the ways they could have tore him apart.
The shop at Djose was a welcome distraction from those thoughts, and he decided to stock up on supplies while he was here. Cramming the last of the meat and bread into his mouth, he stood up and stretched, feeling the reassuring weight of his pack hit him in the thigh like an over-enthusiastic dog.
His hand was literally on the door-handle when a piercing noise filled the air. "What the fuck?" Charlie said, startled. He glared up at the temple where the Summoner was no doubt being torn apart by a furious Fayth for not passing their rigorous tests or something. It sort of sounded like a horse, which was stupid, considering that there'd not been any horses around in Spira for hundreds of years. Just get your supplies and leave, idiot, Charlie told himself. No call for getting involved in Temple business. You're fifteen times as likely to get killed if you go in there, you know. But the story, a smaller, quieter part of his brain whispered. If a Fayth has actually killed a Summoner, imagine the scoop. Go on, go and see. "Oh fucking hell." Charlie turned his back on the shop and pinched the bridge of his nose. He squinted up at the Temple roof, which was still bleeding lightning. "I'm probably going to regret this."