Authors Note:
I'm going to make this short cause I wrote a very long drabble this time. I was trying to make a light-hearted one because the last few felt rather depressing. Also, Swaine needs to have fun every once in a while. This is kind of a sequel to the second chapter, only fewer lyrics and more interaction between people while music, if any, is being performed.
Anywho. On with the show!
Disclaimer: I meant it when I said I'd make it short. I mean it when I say I don't own the rights to this game. It's fun to write about though.
~.~.~
Supplies were needed before they could continue their assault on the Ivory Tower. It had taken them a day to get through half of it, but their provisions had begun to dwindle. They thought it best to leave and come back when they had stockpiled plenty of health potions, food, coffee, and water.
Granted, what did they expect when there were six of them now? The young wizard, Oliver, had cast vacate and they rode Tengri, their dragon friend, down to Al Mamoon. Curry was always a fan favorite of theirs, especially to one of the newest members of their force who- despite the lack of black truffles- claimed he could eat it all day if he wanted to. Pea was no exception, she found the curry as equally pleasing as the prince did.
That member, Marcassin, was also the same one that insisted on staying at an inn this time. While he didn't openly complain, he felt that the Iron Wyvern's deck wasn't exactly comfortable. Once all the room arrangements were squared away, he, Esther, Pea, and Drippy went out for supplies leaving Swaine and Oliver to unpack anything they needed for the night.
At least, that's what the thief wanted them to believe. See, he and Oliver had an… arrangement. It was one they had made earlier in their journey. He harbored a secret he didn't want the girl or the fairy to know or he'd never hear the end of it.
That wasn't the only issue, though: he didn't have the money to pay for the safety deposit box at the inn for keeping his precious instrument. He had waited for the innkeeper to leave or be distracted by something, keeping his Highwayman's Handgun at the ready. He peered around the corner, eyeing the safe.
"What are you doing," came a sudden, curious question from an all too familiar source. The thief jumped and turned around to see the young wizard.
"I… ah…," he tried to find a good line for this situation, but his silver tongue was tarnished by context. His slouch worsened as his head drooped. He put his weapon in its custom-made holster on his belt. "I don't have the money. I wanted to practice using my instrument," he admitted, making a jabbing motion with his thumb back at the front desk.
"Your guitar," the boy asked, putting his hand on his chin, thinking about the situation.
"'Mandolin'," Swaine corrected, his head still low, guilt evident in his voice.
Oliver's eyes grew wide in shock. "So, you were trying to steal it back?" He received a shameful nod from his friend.
"You could have just asked," the wizard reminded him. The man raised his head, his posture straightening a little, a grateful look on his face.
"Thank you," he responded happily. His smile faded slightly. "…And sorry- about what I was about to do. Wasn't very honest of me."
"It's alright," the boy chuckled. He went around Swaine to talk to the innkeeper. She nodded as she listened to him, accepting his cash, and taking the instrument's case out of the safe. Oliver returned holding the large wooden case awkwardly.
The thief held his hands out to take the cumbersome object off his young friend's hands. The kid wouldn't hand it over, even if he was struggling to hold onto it. "Hold on, what's the catch? Oliver, give me my mandolin." He tapped his foot impatiently, crossing his arms.
"First… oof…" He had to adjust how he was holding the case. "You have to promise you'll never go back to stealing from people ever again- only beasts," the ginger-headed wizard demanded, peering over the side of the mandolin case.
Swaine sighed and rolled his eyes, reluctantly. "I promise- wait, you are aware I haven't pinched anything off anyone in a while, right? I haven't since you cured my lack of restraint!" He let his arms drop and pointed accusingly at the boy as he said this, eager to get his hands on his prized instrument once more.
Oliver looked down in thought, readjusting his grip on the case again. "Huh… But still… I want you to promise, Swaine. Never again." The kid nodded adamantly, despite clinging to a large object. "The world will be better for it."
The thief finally gave in and promised, a confident smile on his face. He held out his arms expectantly.
"Do you swear on it," the boy asked, eyeing the thief cautiously.
He threw up his hands irritably. "For the love of- Yes! I swear on my great-great grandfather's grave that I'll never- ever- steal from a single human or human-like soul again!" He made grand gestures and stomped his feet in frustration. "Now hand over Lucy or-!" He stopped dead in his tracks, realizing his vocal blunder. He glowered at the young wizard when he heard a snicker.
He snatched the case out of the giggling boy's arms. "Tell anyone, and my ancestors won't be the only thing I'll be swearing on," he threatened, still scowling at Oliver.
Oliver finally stopped, but still beamed at his thieving friend. "I won't. But still… 'Lucy'?"
By this time, Swaine was rushing to open the case that now lay on the floor, pulling out Lucy, the mandolin, ignoring the question- after all, it was just a silly name he came up with as a kid. He strummed a few chords, beginning to put together a tune when a thought occurred to him. He slid the strap hoisting his instrument off his person, grabbing the neck. He handed the instrument to the young boy he'd grown close to over the course of their journey.
Oliver stepped back in surprise. "Huh?" He looked up to his friend. He shook his head, not wanting to take the instrument. "I can't. What if I break it?"
Swaine smirked and pushed the instrument into the kid's hands. "Not if you learn how, kid." He had his young friend loop the strap over himself and showed him how to hold the instrument. "A little more like this," the thief said, gently adjusting Oliver's arms.
"Okay, but I've never played it before. What do I do," the boy asked, his fingers rubbing the copper metal wires- wires he theorized the thief had put in to replace the ones originally from Perdida. He remembered seeing his friend play a little, but it was idle fidgeting for the most part.
Swaine rolled his eyes. "Hey, just because I play it, doesn't mean I know everything about what notes go where." He gestured to the mandolin, a smile on the corner of his mouth. "Just start playing. A melody will come to you."
"But… you use to play as a ki-."
The thief sighed, cutting him off, and looking away. "I was never taught. It wasn't like I had a choice. Marcassin needed help with magic and that took priority over learning all the minutia of music, alright?" He looked down at the mandolin, a regretful look in his eye. "I learned by playing what I heard…" Swaine shook his head, pushing away useless hindsight, refocusing back on giving his friend a chance to play his beloved instrument.
He patted Oliver on the shoulder, a reassuring smile on his face. "Now let's hear what the mighty 'Pure-Hearted' One's got, eh?"
Oliver attempted to play, but the tune seemed a bit off-key. He cringed and so did Swaine, causing the wizard to chuckle at the face the thief made at every jarring note.
"Fine. I can't give you the exact notes, but I can teach you what to look for in sound," the man admitted, having covered his ears at this point. The next few minutes involved Swaine humming and Oliver repeating what he heard on Lucy.
Eventually, Oliver found himself, without his friend's guidance, putting together a decent melody.
"Decent sound you've got there," the former prince complimented. The wizard nodded. An idea struck him, and his normally ever tired eyes widened followed by an incorrigible grin. He had been leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, listening, but now he half leaped to his feet, standing in front of Oliver. "Hey, how about we give this old inn a performance! You could play Lucy and I'll provide the beat," Swaine proposed enthusiastically.
Oliver flinched. "I only just started learning how to play," he argued nervously.
"And you've never faced against a several-thousand-year-old witch with the power to end the world, yet here we are," the man reminded him.
The wizard nodded, knowing he wasn't wrong there. He agreed and pulled the journal he had been using to keep track of missions and events, handing it to Swaine to use as a make-shift percussion instrument. The man rushed ahead of him into the lobby, pausing to look back.
"Got cold feet, do you," he goaded, jokingly.
Oliver shook his head. "No, it's just that… I've never performed before."
Swaine walked back and grabbed the kid by the arm, pulling him into the lobby. "C'mon. It's not like you're going to be alone. No running. Give it your all," the suddenly energetic thief encouraged.
The boy nodded and began playing the melody he had started before. Before long, the two were singing a song about the highlights of the group's travels, keeping it concise but catchy. Oliver realized the song was like a show-tune from professional plays put on in Motorville his mom used to take him to.
Neither of them was the main singer: they switched roles throughout the song. After the third chorus came what Oliver called the "drum solo"- or, in reality, Swaine giving a catchy rhythm by tapping his shoes and hitting the book against his palm, all the while grinning and chuckling at the end. Oliver's playing kicked in again and the two wrapped up the song.
"Saving the world with you at my side," they both concluded, both smiling in glee from the spontaneous musical number and leaning into each other. Oliver added a final set of notes, closing the tune. The two started to laugh from the left-over thrill, Oliver gripping the instrument and Swaine doubled over, holding the journal to his stomach.
"You're a real natural, Oliver," his friend said between fits of laughter. Oliver had it worse, so he could only nod, the giggling seemingly never ceasing.
The five were returning to the inn. Music could be heard from inside. They all stopped and exchanged confused glances.
"Those voices…," Esther began, eyeing the inn curiously. "They sound familiar."
Marcassin heard an instrument he hadn't encountered in years. "Is that… A mandolin," he asked, not expecting an answer.
"Sounds like a right ol' party, en't it? A real music fest goin' on in there, mun," the fairy observed jumping up and down. "Don't s'pose it's some sort of rampagin' beastie that somehow broke in, do ya?"
Marcassin and Esther gave him an incredulous look. "What makes you think it's a beast? That's the most well put together musical noise I've heard a beast make if it is one," the ruler argued.
"And wouldn't the walls of the Cat's Cradle be shaking if the other two were fighting," the familiar tamer noted.
The fairy stopped jumping and crossed his arms. "Fine, then it's a very tidy beast that can mimic voices," he grumbled, refusing to let his idea go.
"No, it's Oliver and the green guy's music," Pea answered.
The group looked over at Pea. "…The green guy," the young ruler of Hamelin questioned, drawing up a few ideas on what she meant.
"You know, the guy with the silly gun."
"Gascon," Marcassin asked, flinching. Before he got an answer, he rushed towards the inn, the courtyard now silent, the tune ended.
The inn doors flew open and the two looked up, having just recovered from their laughing fits. They saw Swaine's younger brother standing in the entrance, the group catching up behind him.
The shorter of the brothers eyed the instrument Oliver was holding and shifted his gaze immediately to the taller one. "What's… going on," Marcassin asked, confused.
Oliver froze and looked over to the thief who seemed beside himself at the moment. He then rubbed the back of his neck, looked at the ground, and smiled sheepishly. "I was… teaching Oliver how to play the mandolin," the thief admitted. "Damn," Swaine cursed quietly, remembering Pea's presence. "Guess that's one secret gone."
"Flippin' heck, mun," Drippy shouted. "Another flippin' musician in the group is it? Never pegged ol' thief-face to be fancy delicate art-"
Marcassin turned swiftly to the fairy. "Drippy," he shouted, for once commanding the loudmouth Lord High Lord of the Fairies to silence himself. The ruler turned back to his brother and his friend, smiling at them. "Good to see that your talent didn't go to waste, brother. But tell me this: why did you keep it from your friends," he asked, observing the shocked expression on Esther's and Drippy's faces.
The thief was caught red-handed. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head and looking back up at his brother and the other three. "I didn't want you lot getting any more false ideas about me, what with my past and all. I'm not as worried about it now since Marcassin can vouch for my ownership of Lucy-"
"'Lucy'? Who the flippin' heck is that? The innkeeper? C'mon, mun… Me own mam could come up with better." The fairy first glared at Swaine but was treated with irritated looks from the others. His mouth opened eyes widened but the over-exalted Drippy stayed quiet.
The former prince was the most irritable. He pointed to the fairy angrily. "That. That's another reason. As much as I love playing that instrument, I'd never hear the end of it."
"Well," Esther began, smiling, her hands behind her back. "I think it's sweet. It's good to have more than one hobby. Plus, Oliver sounded good, so you must be a good teacher."
Swaine was taken aback, a pang of guilt striking his stomach for misjudging the girl. Oliver stepped forward, handing Lucy over to Swaine, trading him with the journal. "Yeah, he's great! With his help, we performed a whole song together," touted the young wizard.
Marcassin laughed, placing his arm around his older brother, pulling him into an awkward side hug. He looked over at the young wizard, grinning. "You think that was great, you should hear him play my favorite, 'The Hyper Boar Circus'!"
"That's a real classic," the thief admitted, smiling.
The little green haired girl skipped up to the two brothers, giggling. "Play! Play! Play!"
The older man looked down at his brother with an uncertain look. The young ruler nodded and let go of his brother.
Pea swayed from side to side, pulling on the hem of her dress. "Play the pretty music, Mr. Green Man, please," she begged eagerly.
"Alright, alright, keep your hair on," Swaine eased, already primed to play his instrument. "The Hyper Boar Circus," he said before strumming out the first few notes of the song.
~.~.~
A/N:
Welcome to the end of the chapter. Sorry for the length. Been planning this one out for a bit. I really wished the game would develop the relationships between the main party just a little more.
I'm still going with the idea that Swaine didn't start off as a thief but actually tried something that wasn't common criminal behavior. Like I said, Gascon's a high and mighty kind of guy when you first meet him as a kid. Somehow, he doesn't strike me as the kind of person who'd try and take the easy way out first, despite his later version's pension for being a scaredy-cat.
Oh, and that talent show scene in Coco inspired me. Why? If you'd read these things you'd find out!
Anyway, please review. I'd like one review. One. Someone. Please. Tell me what you think. I need to know if I'm doing well or if I'm completely botching this.