Vivi squeaks in horror, gloved hands grasping at his hat as he pulls it down.

"I-I'm sorry! I, I didn't-"

"They're just being theatric," Number One says, unconcerned. "Don't worry. Look, there they go."

Number Three is already flapping wildly in an exaggerated spiral, away from the ship, still burning. Vivi still thinks it looks awful, but he keeps it to himself. These mages have already seen more of battle than he has.

The normal mages - the ones Three had called 'mindless dolls' - cluster around Vivi like a hen around a lost chick, peering at him worriedly. Zidane has to laugh at that.

"I guess they aren't mindless after all, huh? Not if they have parental instinct."

"You'll have to forgive Three," Number One says, gently pushing their way out of the throng. "They were the last grown - and the most powerful of us. They were always arrogant about it, unfortunately - it leads them to make...unwise comments."

"Grown?" Vivi makes his way out, staring at the bigger mage. "What do you mean? You're not like the mages we saw in the fac-in Dali, right?"

"That is correct," Number Two interjects, gliding over. There's a glint in his eye that is more than a little alarming. "We were born, not manufactured - hence, the individualities. When we were still in the process of being tested, we remained in pods when we were not needed that fed and preserved us - such technology is not known of or commonplace as far as I can tell, though there might be the capability for it. Nevertheless-"

"Um," Vivi says, looking slightly stunned as Number Two talks about things, presumably mechanical in nature, that go right over his head. By the look on Zidane, Dagger and Steiner's faces (Steiner has since come over to eye Zidane suspiciously and protect the princess from his wiles, or something, since Dagger followed Zidane), they're just as lost as the little mage is.

"I should have warned you," Number One says, jabbing their companion in the stomach with a practiced motion that knocks the wind out of him. "Don't get him started on machinery. He'll never stop."

"It is interesting!" Number Two protests.

"Then talk about it to someone who finds it equally as interesting. It's not me. Don't try."

"I am misunderstood," he sniffs, gliding away. Dagger and Vivi stifle giggles; Zidane grins. Even Steiner has to smile.

"So, are you guys always like this? You didn't act like it before," the thief says, scratching the back of his head. "You were pretty focused on grabbing Dagger, or killing us."

"We had orders," Number One replies, shrugging. "We're tools, just like the normal soldiers over there. We do what we're told." There's an edge to their voice that suggests there's something more than that simple explanation that keeps them in line; Zidane decides not to ask, at least for now.

"Number Three is returning," Two calls out, from his position on the deck. "In a ship. I assume he succeeded in fooling them."

The little aircraft zooms past, almost knocking his hat off (he scowls despite lacking a mouth and jams his hat back into position on his head, wings tensed with irritability.)

"You assume correctly," Number Three says smugly, as they circle back around. The fire that Vivi had caused is now out; there's only scorch marks on their clothing to show that it had ever been there. "Straight ahead to Lindblum, isn't it? You should have someone steering, I think."

Zidane swears colourfully and runs back to the wheel, followed by Steiner. Dagger stifles laughter and follows her bodyguards back into the cabin. The black mages, after staring at Vivi for a little longer, head down below to take up their stations again.

"Turn the ship around, you scoundrel! And how dare you use that kind of language around the princess!"

"Whatever, Rusty!"

Three drops out of sight again, circling the larger cargo ship and throwing insults at Number Two, who responds in kind. Vivi watches, a strange hollowness growing in him; even these three have a place they belong to. He is not sure if he belongs at all; he has no idea what his purpose was, or what it is now.

It's a dizzying, overwhelming feeling, like the swaying of the deck beneath his feet; he isn't sure what to do with it, and now that everything is blurring he doesn't dare take a step.

He shudders, and makes a startled, choked sound when he feels the brush of feathers behind him and hears a jingling noise; he stares up at Number One, who is still standing there, watching their companions. One wing is outstretched; he looks behind him to find that it is forming a kind of barrier, ready to catch him.

"Try not to fall off the ship," they say, after a moment. "Your friends wouldn't be pleased."

"O-okay," Vivi mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut. He feels sick; he just wants to lie down. This is too much information to take in all at once.

He sits, instead, sheltered by the wing of someone he wouldn't have considered comforting in the least, considering what Zidane knew about them - but it was enough, for just now. He shares a bond with them that he doesn't share with his other friends, as nice as they are.

(They pity him, really. For all his power, he is a child still, uncertain of his place in the world and what it wants from him. Uncertainty is a terrible thing.)

They feel a sudden tug on their outstretched wing and flap instinctively, startled out of their thoughts, and look over. Vivi stares back uncertainly; one gloved hand is grasping soft feathers.

"S-sorry," he stammers, after a moment. "I didn't-"

Number One laughs, a little, and waves their hand dismissively. "If you find my wings so fascinating, go ahead," they instruct, amused despite their own surprise. "They're not good for much in any case."

"What do you mean?"

(They notice that Vivi's stammer usually leaves when he's asking questions. The boy is curious - a good and bad thing.)

"I can't fly like those two rocketing around over there. These are good for slowing falls, but not much else. Short hops, maybe."

"Oh." The little mage handles the wing gently, pushing it back and forth with his fingers. "There's a difference?"

"Of course there is. If Number Three lets me touch their wings without zapping me, I'll show you. And if we can find some birds, even better."

"Okay." He nods, seemingly satisfied with that promise, though it makes sense that he would be. He is a child, after all.

He seems to withdraw, tugging his hat down on his head a little further; soon he is leaning back against Number One's wing. He appears to be dozing.

He shouldn't be so trusting, considering what he is, and considering what his kind is being made for - what they will be known for, once Alexandria makes its move. They're not sure what to think about his nature, what they've seen of it so far, but they know it makes them hurt somewhere they weren't aware existed.

There's no name for that emotion yet. They'll have to figure it out later. Traveling with this merry band will no doubt produce explanations sooner than most.

"We're almost there!" Zidane's shout breaks the relative silence. "Look ahead!"

They look up; Lindblum is ahead, and bustling with activity. They've seen airships before, and know how to recognise them, but it's still an awe-inspiring sight.

They nudge the smaller mage lightly and he startles, leaping up and looking around.

"Oh!" He runs to the bow, holding onto the railing tightly with one hand and clamping his hand around the brim of his hat with the other, to stop it being blown away by the wind. "Wow, it's huge! And there's so many airships! I didn't know so many existed!"

"All these ships are powered by Mist," Number Two says, breaking away from insulting Number Three (still doing loops around the bulkier cargo ship and enjoying themselves immensely) to glide over and lean on the railing beside Vivi. "It makes travel much easier around this continent, so naturally everyone wants to use them. It makes all the towns and cities much more accessible - hence, there are a lot more than people would expect."

"Wow, really? So everyone has airships now? Is that why there's so many?"

"No. Lindblum is the main supplier and builder of aircraft. Without Lindblum's engineering prowess, it is likely we would not have the ease of transport on the Mist continent that we enjoy right now - and even then there are places who, for reasons of their own, will not use airships. Burmecia is one such place." He folds his hands on the railing, watching as the South Gate looms ever closer. "Alexandria and Lindblum are the main powers that employ constant use of machines like this, if I recall correctly."

"Oh. Um...how come you know all this? If you were soldiers, you wouldn't have needed to know, right?"

"We were educated as soon as we could absorb the information, so we wouldn't be shocked by the outside world," One interjects, ambling over. "We were intended to be standalone fighters, able to perform difficult tasks without having to rely on numbers to back us up, so we were taught in a different way."

They nudge Number Two, more gently than before. "And you'll talk the poor boy to death if nobody stops you, so let him admire the scenery in peace."

"I like him talking, though," Vivi pipes up. "I mean, he uses a lot of words, but it's still nice to listen to!"

"Don't encourage him! Wait until he complains at you, and we'll see how sympathetic you are then!"

"I'm going ahead," Number Three shouts, interrupting them all as they speed past in a whirr of engines, shooting into the tunnel ahead of the transport ship. "We're almost to South Gate!"

The looming shadow of the gate falls over the cargo ship's deck, covering the ship completely as they pass through; Number One can't help but feel that it's somehow symbolic, and wonders when they started to think like that.

They look over at Number Two, who is staring ahead, rapt with attention.

"Remember to come back," they say to him. "I don't want to have to drag you."

"I will," he replies distractedly, waving a hand. "There is just...we have never been anywhere by ourselves. You must understand-"

"Just because I caution you doesn't mean I don't understand. Just be careful, and be aware - what is it, boy?" Vivi is tugging their wing again, apparently having decided that's a prime method of getting their attention. They have to admit that it works.

"You're the oldest, right?"

"Yes, technically. Why do you ask?"

"You just sound that way!" They have the feeling he's smiling; his eyes crinkle up a little. "I just wanted to know." He turns and runs back to the cabin to talk with his friends before they can say anything else.

They stare after him for a moment, before shaking their head. That strange, affectionate feeling has come back again; they're not sure what to make of it in the slightest.

"Strange child," they mutter.

The sound of clanking and whirring fills the air as they pass through the gate and are directed into a dock; Number Three has already landed their ship, and is steadfastly ignoring all questions for the moment. The princess and her guardians are departing.

They sigh and twitch their wings in the equivalent of a shrug, not directed to anyone in particular, and join the party in descending the steps to the platform. Number Two falls in behind them. Number Three is walking beside the princess, despite particularly wary looks from Steiner and Zidane; they seem to be taking the 'keep the princess alive' part of their order incredibly seriously.

"The crew are taking the ship back to Dali," Two says quietly, leaning down. "They say they will attempt to keep in touch. They want to know how Vivi will be doing."

"I'm sure that will be useful for later," Number One muses thoughtfully, as they follow the princess. "We'll have to wait and see."