A/N: OC inspired by my favorite singer of all time, the talented Angela Aki. Story takes place about one year after DoC. (Oh how I love to beat the crap out of the insufferable Shelke using Galian Beast in that game)
I have no experience at poetry, so here's to hoping the start doesn't sound too cheesy. Gurk.
Disclaimer: I do not in any way own Final Fantasy. Nuff said.
Swish swish swirl. Swish swish swirl. Colorful crystal rain raining down in chains. Swish swish swirl. Swish swish swirl. Swishing through the swirling clouds of crystal mist. Silence. Silence.
Silence.
Swish swish thud...
Swirl swirl bong...BONG!
BONG!
THUD!
THUD!
x x x x x x
"THUD! THUD! BONG!" Angela jolted awake from the banging noises against her bedroom door.
Her daily wake up call is here.
Eyes groggy, she glared drowsily towards the door, cursing at the racket that had caused her untimely departure from slumberland. She let loose a Monday morning groan and arched her back like a cat. Finally, she attempted to sit up after a gruesome effort detangling her legs from the blanket.
"Coming!"
"BONG! BONG! BONG! THUD! THUD! BONG!"
Angela grabbed her glasses from the bedside table and marched drunkenly towards the oaken door.
She swung it open.
Holding her glasses in front of her chocolate-hued orbs she peered in mock disdain at the person standing outside her room.
"Didn't your parents ever teach you to respect other people's privacy?"
Adorably round, puppy-dog eyes stared back at the slightly annoyed woman, the flecks of burgundy in them sparkling with mischief.
"An-ge-laaaa!" Angela's self-appointed human alarm-clock whined, putting on her usual quivering pout, the little girl knowing full well how to exactly deflate the woman's irritation.
"Alright Squirt, stop that."
More quivering.
Angela was staring flatly at her now.
"You just know how to work your way around people, don't you?"
Narrowing her eyes at the girl she added, "You sure are manipulative for an eight-year old, and that is V-E-R-Y disturbing let me tell you that." Sighing, she ruffled the girl's chestnut hair playfully. Marlene grinned cheekily at her comment.
"Your dad coming to see you this weekend?" Angela asked her tiny friend, as she began to make the bed.
"Um!" the little girl nodded happily, then pattered to the other side of the bed to help straighten out the mess.
"You all ready for school?" Angela continued while she plumped all three fat pillows.
"Uh-huh!" Marlene answered, and then added, "Dur!" cheekily.
Angela turned away from the pillows and quirked an eyebrow at the girl, who grinned and scurried away just in time to avoid a pillow being thrown to her face.
"Missed!" She proceeded to giggle and then squealed in delight as Angela bounded towards her, arms at the ready.
"Let's see how you dodge this! The deadly, fingers of doom! Yaaarrrr!"
She started tickling the little girl, cackling like a wicked witch and shouting victory cries as her victim squirmed, wriggled and unsuccessfully tried to escape the so-called fingers of doom. After a few more triumphant shouting from Angela, and more struggling and squealing from poor Marlene, they both stumbled onto the carpet, the girl with tear-stricken face, Angela breathless with laughter.
In between breaths, Angela remarked smugly, "Aahh…I see…that you are… repentant…of your naughty ways. Are you?"
A muffled sound was the only thing that Marlene could manage to come up with, exhausted after being severely tickled.
"Glad to have taught you a lesson Squirt, heh," Angela sat up abruptly from where she was lying down on the carpet and surveyed the room thoughtfully, her eyes resting on the bedside table.
"Say, what time is it, Marlene?"
Marlene crawled on all fours towards the Moogle-shaped alarm clock, perched on top of the small wooden table. After crawling back to Angela, she shoved it into her hand and then proceeded to sit cross-legged in front of the woman. She stared expectantly as Angela took a close look at the short needle pointing towards the number 8 and the long needle pointing straight at the number 6.
"Shi--…"Angela started to say, but then shut her trap immediately when she remembered who else was in the room. Without another word, she bolted to the bathroom, telling Marlene to stay put and make herself comfortable, the little girl shaking her head at the grownup's antic.
She emerged in all her washed up glory five minutes later, furiously scrubbing her dark tresses with her Moogle-embroidered towel. By the time she had finished dressing, a simple peasant blouse with her signature blue jeans, Marlene was already out in the hallway, waiting patiently. Grabbing her glasses, her book-bag, and finally her jacket, she stepped outside the room and was about to lock the door when Marlene tugged at her sleeve.
"What is it Hon?" she mumbled distractedly.
"Shoes," was all Marlene said, bouncing up and down on her tiptoes and heels, her round hands grasping the straps of her pink and white backpack.
Angela stopped fiddling with the doorknob and stood incredibly still. After one whole minute had gone by, she released a really long intake of breath. Muttering incomprehensible words to herself she unlocked the door and marched back inside, squeezed her feet into her favorite, worn-out sneakers, and marched back outside to finally kick the door shut behind her.
"All set, let's go!" she announced to her extremely patient companion, steering the girl by the shoulders down the wooden staircase, and out the small, six units apartment building.
Locating her ride, a small silver scooter, she scooped up a helmet from the front compartment and placed it on Marlene's head. After adjusting the strap under the girl's chin she clasped it shut with a click.
"What about you Ange?" the girl asked suddenly, looking up at her with concerned eyes.
"Don't worry Squirt, I have this," she produced a red skull-cap from her leather sling bag, wound her still-wet hair neatly into it and settled the cap on her head.
"That's not good enough," Marlene groaned beside her, hands on her hips, the eight-year old looking exactly like a mother nagging her kid into eating his vegetables.
Angela chuckled at the girl's grownup-like displeased expression. "Well, unless you get your own helmet there's nothing I can do for now but use THIS," she tilted the cap slightly, "for the protection of my own cranium. Your wellbeing comes first missy, and besides, I'm not exactly enthusiastic of becoming the receiving end of the full brunt of Mr. Wallace's anger if anything happens to you just because I was too stingy of giving up my helmet." she ended her long speech with a little wag of her forefinger at the girl.
Then, her face softening, she patted Marlene's head affectionately, saying, "Just as long as you're safe, 'kay?" She went behind the girl and lifted her small figure by the waist, Marlene carefully lowering her feet on each side of the seat as she let the girl settled comfortably on the scooter.
The girl shifted her petite frame this way and that and remarked thoughtfully, "That's what Cloud always says. Umm…although…Cloud never gave me any helmets to wear whenever he lets me ride with him on Fenrir, usually he just tells me to – sit still and hold on tight...Marlene, " The little girl managed to adopt the man's customary monotone, getting a good snicker from Angela for her effort to imitate the renowned world hero's stoic mannerism.
"Yosh! Hang on to your dear life Squirt, 'cuz here we go!" she threw a fist up in the air and fired up the engine.
Soon they were on the road to the school, Marlene chattering excitedly above the wind whipping furiously around them as her 'chauffeur' picked up speed, seeing as how late they already were.
"You know, Fenrir can go five times faster than this!" the girl shouted and then squealed when they went over a rather large speed bump. Angela couldn't help but to shout back, "Then why don't you bug HIM to ride cha off to school on his great big motorbike instead of coming to MY humble abode and disturbing MY peaceful slumber EVERYday to hitch a ride on MY puny little scooter?"
She could see Marlene grinning from the side-view mirror, a small dimple showing on her left cheek.
"For one, he's a reeeeally early riser," Angela harrumphed at that little teasing comment, "two, it's sooo much more fun bugging you, An-ge-la," the little girl remarked in a sing-song voice, shifting her grip from the woman's hips to give Angela a big bear hug from behind.
"Smart brat…" Angela replied as a matter-of-factly, inducing a little giggle from the girl.
She turned the scooter to clean a curve expertly, picking up speed when she saw a white building up ahead.
x x x x x x
A boy with an untidy mop of light-brown hair was about to walk into the New Midgar Community School entrance when out of the blue tiny stocky fingers grabbed his left arm from behind. The next thing he knew, he was being dragged along forcefully towards the elementary students section.
"Hurry up Denzel, we're going to be late!" the boy stared in bewilderment as Marlene towed him along the nearly empty hallway. He frowned when he heard a commotion coming from behind. He peered over his shoulder and saw their music teacher darting into the hallway.
"The Bane's going to murder me…" she hissed as she zipped by them, and then noticed the boy staring at her with a bemused expression.
Running backwards, Angela made shooing motions towards Denzel and Marlene, saying, "Stop staring at your teacher like that and get your ass to class!" and then crashed right into a man who had just exited one of the classrooms.
Marlene gasped, and then scurried over to the fallen teacher and tried with all her might to pull her back up.
Angela felt the man shifting beneath her, and dread began to set in the pit of her empty stomach. "Please don't let it be The Bane, please, please not him, not the Bane of my existence, please, please, please," Angela kept chanting mentally, her eyes shut and her head woozy from their collision. She allowed Marlene to help her on her feet, off the poor person she had run over like a speeding Chocobo.
"Reeve!" "Uncle Reeve!" she heard Denzel and Marlene cried out simultaneously.
And that was when Angela was certain she had discovered the number one bane of her existence; her own klutzy, clumsy, hopeless self. Angela could feel the blood draining from her face.