Ripples in a Pond

Chapter 11
Rating: PG-13 for this chapter
Warnings: Monster violence.
Pairings: Seifer/Zell, light Irvine/Selphie and implied Squall/Riona. The chosen threesome isn't named to avoid spoilers.

Summary: All bearings are lost when SeeDs experience an unfortunate crash that sends them on a planet where technology is at its beginning and monarchs stillrule. Theonly thingthey can do is try and keep their heads over the water and go with the flow, less they drown.ff8-ff9
Notes: Seifer-centric. A lot.

Seifer looked down at his feet, creeping forward slowly and carefully on the slippery surface of the vine-like plants that had so far provided them with a dry path through the stinky place. The footing was treacherous enough, but he couldn't even see clearly from the light thrown by the torch bobbing in Amarant's hand, right before him. And how that man managed not to set his hair on fire, he'd never know.

At that moment, Seifer simply hated this damn place.

Many things had changed, according to Zidane and his friends. The Fossil Roo was half flooded, which was why their going was so slow and painful; many times they'd come to caves where the only option was swimming in dark, dank and foul water brimming with monsters. They'd had to backtrack often, losing precious time as they searched for other ways to pass. The flooding had also chased away the miners, as was obvious by the long untended torches nearly rotting in the brackets high enough to have escaped the water. Zidane was still remaining desperately hopeful that –what had he called them?—gargants, or whatever they were, were still living in the higher shadows of the tunnels. Seifer thought bleakly that it was a very strenuous hope.

Down below, a rippling movement caught Seifer's eye. A small, round monster poked its head out of the water, faintly illuminated by the light rocks that peppered the cavern and allowed a minimal addition of light to their guttering torches. The monster pursed its thin snout, and with a great intake of breath that made its already round body inflate to almost twice its size, it began tootling.

Seifer sneered down at the thing, wishing his magic wasn't scrapped so he could fry the tootling bastard out of the water. They'd started encountering the annoying things their first day in Fossil Roo, and so far they'd hardly had an hour's respite from the monsters' flute-like piping. It was slowly driving Seifer mad, and the only thing that had stopped him from using Devour yet was the fact that they were actually edible, and that although the monsters were deceptively fast, once captured, they could flesh out their pathetic rations nicely. Not that they tasted all that good –the meat was rubbery and slimy—but at least it was something.

Seifer's boot slipped and he cursed silently as he regained his balance. It was no time to be worrying about tootling monsters; the vine was growing thinner and more treacherous as it reached up near a high ledge around the wall.

Once upon the relative safety of the rock, Zidane called a break. Seifer leaned back against the rough stone, testing the aches in his limbs to try and count how many days they could have passed in here. It was almost impossible to tell without the sun as reference. They stopped when they were too weary to put a foot before the other, and started after everyone had slept more or less enough. If those cycles could be called days, then they'd already been three days in Fossil Roo, and Zidane's accounts of the place were not encouraging.

Below them, a second monster had joined its piping to the first in an eerie, infuriating high-pitched melody. Seifer sat down and stretched his legs before taking one of the small potion vials that had been converted into fresh water containers. They were precious few of those, and they hadn't been able to found another fresh source to replenish the empty bags and bottles since the first day. Seifer downed it in two swallows, but it wasn't nearly enough to ease the dryness in his throat. It would have to do, though. His stomach grumbled, angry for more hearty sustenance. Seifer leaned forward in a squat until he could see beyond the lip of the ledge. The monsters were still there, vague shadows in the darker water. He was suddenly grateful for their presence. Although he'd gone on poorer fare –if any at all—for longer periods of time and still survived and managed to fight, it didn't mean Seifer liked those kind of predicaments. The ledge was too high from the water, but now he couldn't wait until they'd be low enough to be able to kill one of them.

Much later after they'd resumed their thankless trekking, they saw their first gargant. It floated on its back in the flooded Fossil Roo, body bloated and grey from the beginning of putrefaction, its legs curled against its swollen belly. Seifer stopped a few moments, looking at the corpse with a small frown, and for some reason he could not fathom the sight of the dead body sent a shiver of discomfort up his spine. He didn't linger long after that and kept his questions for later.

---

They called it a day when they found the small remains of one of the now-deserted miners' camps. The rocky path rose only five feet out of the water, but it was wide and hugged the wall, so they set coats and cloaks as far away from the water as they could and built the small fires made from gathered deadwood between themselves and the still, menacing shadow of the water. There were no tootling monsters here, but Seifer could hear the echoes of their suddenly many-voiced music from a tunnel or two away. Pity they weren't here for the catching.

Squatting before a pathetic fire that provided little warmth, but at least some light, with the chickenwuss and Amarant, Seifer took out another potion vial and considered the now precious water it contained. It glowed a faint red against the fire.

"I have another day's soldier rations of these. We'd better find a new spring soon," he commented dryly, and surprised himself with the touch of carelessness in his tone. He would only last a day or two without water at this pace, yet there was a cold emptiness in the pit of his stomach that didn't care what happened. Would it be so bad to die in here? After the glory of the possible death he could have had while fighting for the sorceress, it seemed oddly wrong. Seifer shook his head, dismissing the thought.

Amarant, his eyes hooded by his hair and the casting shadows of the fire, nodded and looked to one side, then the other, slowly. "With all the backtracking we have done, we are barely at the middle of Fossil Roo. With the gargants gone, it will take even longer to cross."

Not quite subdued by the last few days, but obviously tired, Zell only grimaced at Amarant's words. Seifer looked at the martial arts master's face, the exhausted yet damnably stubborn set of his jaw, and figured he must be much more tired than he'd thought; because of the flickering firelight, Seifer thought that Zell's intricate tattoo was dancing and slithering across his temples. It was strangely hypnotizing.

"Hey, Seifer, what're you staring for?"

Seifer blinked and realized with surprise that he had been staring, mindlessly watching Zell's tattoo alive on his cheek. He hooded his eyes and kept the surprise out of his face, then drank that stupid vial he still held in a loose-jointed fist to avoid answering.

He really must be tired to be staring at the chickenwuss, of all people. Still, in this light, his tattoo had an eerie quality Seifer had never noticed before. Not that he was going to grace Zell with the compliment any time soon.

"How can you be so sure the gargants are all gone?" Seifer asked Amarant, gracefully ignoring the peeved look Zell sent his way and forcing the tattoo from his thoughts as well. "Just because one's dead doesn't mean they all are."

The red-haired man rolled one shoulder dismissively. Not much could faze him, Seifer had discovered. "Gargants hate water. They're not only dead. They're gone."

Seifer was tired, but he still took Hyperion from where it lay by his knee and placed the naked blade across his lap, studying its few scratches and notches. The blade was tough, but Seifer nonetheless took out the whetstone he'd gotten at that Alexandrian shop and started working on its edge. The action was soothing, if nothing else.

"Maybe gargant meat is edible," Zell mused aloud, and Seifer was glad to see that his comment elicited an equally startled and bothered look from Amarant.

"The corpse was rotten."

"I know that!" Zell replied, cheeks reddening. Seifer snorted audibly and was pleased to see them reddening even more. "I mean, if we find one that's, you know…fresh, or almost dead or something, maybe we could eat it? If they're useless and all, then what's wrong with eating something else than that rubbery monster for a change?" he hastily explained.

Although the chickenwuss' logic was sound enough, Seifer was still bothered by the idea. He couldn't bring himself to see those giant insects as food. No more than he could chocobos, in fact, so maybe it was the similarity as steeds that made the idea of eating them disturbing?

He rose one eyebrow contemptuously. "That's the dumbest thing I've heard today. If there are any left, I'd prefer riding them out of here," he said and looked back down at his sword as he worked the whetstone along its edge.

"How? Everything's flooded!"

Seifer rolled his eyes but did not look up. He was too tired for this. "And what do you think we've been walking on half the time? Not all the vines are flooded, so maybe there will be a few gargants left." He didn't believe a word he said, but it didn't matter. Seifer just wanted to end this.

Across the fire, Zell huffed. "Sure, you say that now, but I remember you telling everyone how you didn't think anything could live in here anymore. Except monsters. You're still full of shit, Almasy, but you're losing your touch."

This time Seifer did look up, glaring hotly. "Now would be a good time to shut up."

To his surprise and mounting anger, Zell grinned. "Sure I will."

And he did shut up, looking way too smug about it. Seifer hissed a breath and forced himself to ignore Zell. Since when did he let himself be bothered by the chickenwuss? Since when could he even achieve such a feat? He looked at Amarant, but the man looked as unconcerned as could be.

Seifer continued sharpening his sword long enough that it didn't look like he was running and skulking, then put the whetstone away and rose without a word. He was hungry as hell, but the thought of the salted meat and dried fish that composed their sole menu helped tremendously to cut his appetite. He spread his coat not so far that he couldn't feel the fire's dim warmth and rolled himself in it.

That cold ball of carelessness he'd wondered at before spread, and he fell asleep thinking that he really hated this planet.

---

They did find a fresh water source at the end of the following day. It was only a small, trickling inlet that lost itself in the vaster, oily sheen of the flood water, but it was enough to refill their empty containers and assure them another few days' safe journeying. They fell asleep with a lighter heart and a satiated thirst, but they were still aware of all the other possible dangers that awaited them.

Squatting by the still water that framed the dusty stretch of stone and dirt on which they had currently established camp, the warmth of a fire against his back, Seifer took a small pebble and flicked it in the water. It caught one of the fluting monsters' head, but it barely reacted as it concentrated on its unnerving song.

Seifer counted the heads one more time; he was sure there were more than an hour before. He kept Hyperion in his fist. He didn't like how they had multiplied during their travelling, how it had become twenty tootling monsters that harried them with their music instead of one or two. Besides, it was making his head buzz.

The worst was certainly their incredible stillness. Aside from when they halted their music to take in one large, gulping breath, the monsters did not move. They were still, glistening shadows that bobbed in the water, unconcerned by the humans that had killed and eaten a few of their comrades. Still, their numbers now demanded a watch at all times. Not that Seifer could have slept with all that ruckus anyways, and he also welcomed the solitude. It had been some time since he could just sit down and feel truly alone with himself and his thoughts. The others' sleeping noises didn't count. In fact, he reflected suddenly, he hadn't felt quite this way since he'd established himself in Fisherman's Horizon. Solitude had been unnerving there, full of brooding thoughts and plans of escape. Here, with the monsters demanding he keep on edge and alert –though of course Tonberry King's initiative would prevent any nasty surprises—he couldn't brood. He could just sit and watch and appreciate the feeling of lurking danger and action thrumming in his veins.

I'm not made for peace.

It might be a dismal thought for many, depressing and bleak, but he didn't mind. Seifer tossed another pebble at the unconcerned monsters. Some people weren't made for war and combat, but he thrived in it. Not that he would like living through another war, or become a sorceress' knight all over again, but he could no sooner settle down and become a fisherman or something. The monsters' bulbous eyes reflected the little light from the company's fires, dozens of tiny, malevolent pinpricks watching him, waiting.

Seifer could face those eyes on a day-to-day basis and remain who he was.

As he reflected why that was, Zell's words came back to him, the fighter's warning of sorts at Zidane and Garnet's marriage banquet, his jab the other night. How could he have let those openings for Zell to hit? Maybe he was growing soft after all. Seifer gripped Hyperion's hilt tighter and felt the strength in his arm, saw the sinews in stark relief against his skin. It couldn't be that simple.

It's this place and these people. They're just making me edgy.

Oddly unsatisfied with the explanation but unwilling to pursue the subject, Seifer resolutely put those thoughts aside for the moment, concentrating on the monsters' strange tootling to help drive them away. The normally high-pitched music had dropped a tone or two, he realized, and was less annoying than before. He leaned forward slightly and cocked his head, paying it more attention. How come they'd never sung so well before…? The lower tones were soothing compared to the higher ones from before. Seifer could feel them in his bones. His eyes drooped. He would be able to really fall asleep, now. This music, it would let him sleep a deep and dreamless sleep he had been lacking lately. Seifer felt himself swaying, knew in the back of his mind that it was dangerous, that he could not let himself surrender, but he couldn't stop himself. His mind was too foggy.

Somewhere behind him, someone called his name. Seifer shook his head slowly, trying to concentrate on that new but intruding voice, but he couldn't clear his head. The monsters' music was everywhere, and soon he couldn't hear that other voice at all and his eyes closed of their own volition.

I shouldn't fall asleep. I can't. Have to…

There was a brief mental struggle during which Seifer regained parts of his wits, but the music seemed to increase in depth and the mounting panic and realization of danger were crushed before they could be acted upon. Seifer felt the darkness behind his closed eyelids sweep through him so that all of his senses were plunged into insensibility, and he toppled forward.

---

The darkness was tangible. Seifer looked around himself, and he could see it swirl and shift languidly before his eyes, a blackness so thick it was alive. He looked down but could not see the rest of his body, nor the hands he held before his eyes. He thought he should panic, but he couldn't feel anything but a sort of hollow resignation. The air was warm and fetid, but that didn't bother him, either.

As Seifer peered around with a touch of curiosity, he began to make out a soft padding sound, moving closer and coming from before him. He squinted, trying uselessly to peer through the black murk, but it wasn't until the source sounded right by him that he saw it. The darkness suddenly shifted to the sides, as if violently repulsed, and with an increase of temperature a large mastiff was revealed, sitting regally on its hunches. It turned a dog-grin up at Seifer.

"You're weak."

Pinpricks of his character were slowly reassembling themselves; he mustered enough contempt to raise an eyebrow he was not even sure truly existed.

"Who are you?"

There was a short bark that sounded like a dog-laugh, but it came from the right. Seifer turned to see another mastiff, identical to the first, hackles raised in definite amusement.

"Don't even recognize me in your own head?

Now Seifer frowned, more confused than anything. "My head? What are you talking about?"

"We are in your mind." Seifer turned to the suddenly reasonable and wise-sounding voice to his left. He was not surprised to find a third mastiff sitting there, an exact copy of the other two. "Or rather, the part you granted me."

Something was gnawing at him. A spark of recognition tickled the back of his consciousness, but Seifer wasn't whole enough yet to be able to understand it. He was starting to feel angry, but he was also puzzled, if in a growingly annoyed way.

"What do you mean, weak?" Bits and pieces were coming back to him, flickering images of what he guessed were memories and voices he knew he should recognize.

The first dog grinned wider; it looked more feral than amused. "You let yourself be caught like a moth flies to a flame. You barely even fought back."

At those words, Seifer suddenly remembered music. It gradually filled the black space, slow and syrupy and distorted, but growing clearer. The mastiff's dog-grin dissolved into an unpleasant baring of fangs, and soon the music faded once again and there was silence.

"See? Weak," the dog snorted contemptuously. He wasn't amused anymore.

"I know that music," Seifer mused, and for some reason he yearned to have it back. What did it mean?

"Stop that," the dog to the right ordered sharply.

"Stop what?" Seifer asked, but the mastiff would not answer, simply glowering at him.

"I can keep it out a while, but I can't protect you forever if you want it in," the dog to the left answered, voice low and very serious. "Not in your own head."

There was an uneasy silence during which Seifer was mostly confused, but he thought he was beginning to understand what was going on. The music was familiar, yes, but as he slowly recollected the pieces that composed himself, it became fearful as well.

He was growing familiarly tired of asking questions, but he did so anyways. "What do you mean, protect me? And who are you already?"

The left-hand dog looked around slowly, seeming to see much beyond the shifting blackness. "I brought you here to save you. Your mind was being dismantled like a toy, but they can't reach you here, not in my domain."

The first dog huffed. "Sad, isn't it? I'm stuck with you so I have no choice but to save you, otherwise I'm going down as well. You're lucky I'm here."

Recognition was very strong now, so much that it felt like he could touch it, but not grasp it. He frowned deeply, forcing himself to think and remember.

"He can't stay here," the right-hand dog barked warningly.

The left-hand mastiff nodded its large head. "No. But he can't leave yet, it'll kill him just as well."

The first mastiff growled low in its throat and snapped its fangs up at Seifer. "Come on, human, hurry up."

Hurry for what, Seifer had no clue, but the dogs' way of speaking was what finally sparked a name in Seifer's memories; how they spoke as if they were all the same animal with the same intentions. It came back all in a rush of images and sounds and feelings, blurry and confusing in their order, but once they had settled they made sense. They were Seifer, and the man now knew himself, felt himself strong and whole, and he remembered everything. He understood where he was, who he was facing, and what had happened.

"Cerberus. How gracious of you to have welcomed me here, in my own head," he said, a wide grin slowly making its way across his lips.

The first mastiff snorted. "Don't get cocky, human. Just get out of here."

Seifer looked around at the swirling darkness and saw it for what it was. The GF's domain lacked taste. "I will. I don't think this place's too healthy for me."

Even as it spoke, the left-hand dog was slowly being swallowed back in its mantle of darkness. "Outside isn't much better, but at least it won't be able to kill you anymore, unless you let it."

The mastiffs had disappeared, and with the simple will of going out, the swirl of blackness settled before his eyes, becoming the unfazed shadows behind closed eyelids.

---

Seifer woke up with a great gasp of surprise, but instead of filling with air, his lungs were quickly flooded by cold, metallic-tasting water. He choked, but realized he was submerged and could not draw breath. His coat was heavy as stone and was dragging him down. Seifer fought down a surge of panic at the idea of drowning as he felt a burn in his lungs and a pressure in his brain, and started kicking back up, but found something clinging to his legs. He looked down, the water –he'd fallen in the pool, the idiot—stinging his eyes, but it was too dark to see anything but faintly bulbous shapes near him.

He kicked his legs furiously, and the things let go suddenly, as if burnt. He almost managed to make his way back to the surface, but soon the things were back, more numerous and powerful.

Seifer felt the pain from his lungs and air-deprived brain spread throughout his body and fought like a cornered badger, flailing his legs and wind-milling his arms. He got tangled in his water-laden coat and felt the pull downwards win against his own efforts. Seifer gurgled in cursed alarm as he felt the strength ebb out of his limbs. He was out of time!

And then, so suddenly that it choked the rest of his precious air out of his lungs, something caught him by the collar and hauled him up. The clutching things offered resistance, but Seifer kicked them off with the last of his strength and he was pulled out of the water, his head breaking the surface more quickly than he'd thought.

The first coughing intake of air was a blessing. It soothed his lungs and helped clear his head. As he opened his eyes, his vision returned in a myriad of small black spots that slowly vanished to reveal the sharper darkness of stone.

"You ok?" someone yelled over him even as he was unceremoniously dragged back on the rocky ledge. The cavern was filled with aggressive music and shrieks and yells.

Seifer blinked the last of the spots from his eyes and finally recognized Zell's face over his, worried but deathly intent on something before him. It didn't take long for Seifer to recognize the intensity of the expression the martial artist wore during battle.

The sounds slowly made sense, and Seifer struggled to sit up, feeling weak-limbed and light-headed, but nonetheless determined to exact gory and painful vengeance on the damn monsters that had gotten him so easily.

"Where's my blade?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

Zell pushed something in his hand. It was Hyperion's corded hilt. "Here."

There was an increase in the music's tempo and Zell swore, jumping back to his feet. As Seifer willed his stupid knees to support his weight, he saw four monsters leap onto the cavern floor, tootling madly, and advance on Zell. The man pulled back one fist, and with a blow Seifer didn't even see, shattered the head of the nearest against the stone. The three others surrounded him, but he was too fast and strong for them to do much, at least outside water.

Finally recollecting some of his strength, Seifer moved forward, his blade raised before him. A small knife whistled past his ear and lodged itself in a barely-emerging monster. There was the thrust of a spear in the corner of his vision, the flash of blades, familiar and not, but Seifer ignored them. The others could very well take care of themselves.

Seifer moved nearer and let Hyperion dance and dispatch the closest monsters, his weakness forgotten as he fought and fell into the unforgiving rhythm of battle. He didn't think of anything else but the movements of his blade against his enemies until silence once again filled the cavern.

When the last monster had been killed, its black blood oozing in a puddle over the slippery rock, Seifer looked around, searching for the next attacker, but none came. He took a long, steadying breath and flicked the blood off his blade. After the near-constant music that had accompanied them during their crossing, the sudden silence was eerie, foreboding.

"Hey Seifer! You ok now?"

Said man looked across to Zell, who kicked one last corpse back into the water before turning a large, battle-frenzy grin up at him. Seifer felt his eyebrow twitch in disgust at the splatter of gory bits splattered over Zell, especially his hands. The later didn't seem to have noticed.

"I'm fine," he answered tartly. With the fight over and his near-drowning experience behind him, he had all the luxury of being particularly angry, mostly at himself. He casually brushed a hand through his very wet hair –which were dripping in his eyes, damn them—even though saying he was perfectly fine was dangerously overestimating his state. His legs were wobbly and breathing still hurt, but it was little compared to the very general state of weakness he felt.

Seifer was really not happy with himself right now.

"Sure?" Zell repeated, then raised an apologetic hand when Seifer glowered at him. "Sorry, I know." With his hand up, Zell finally noticed its state and winced, the battle rage that allowed him to smash skulls and bones without a care now sluicing off of him. He knelt back near the water, checking it warily before quickly ducking his hands in it. "It's just, I didn't think I'd actually be able to catch you. The monsters came up as soon as you fell in and stopped me from reaching you in time." Zell scrunched his face. "I so did not want to have to jump in there after you."

Seifer rolled his eyes, but through the anger at himself for toppling in the first place, he was thankful that Zell had been there to raise the alarm and pull him out. He owed him, as much as it galled.

"Your heroic impulses will never cease to amaze me," he drawled, but he didn't manage to put the appropriate bite in it.

Zell glared at him as he brushed the…bits off himself. "No problem, it was my pleasure. Why'd you let yourself fall anyways? That was totally not cool, man."

Yes, why had he? There were a few blurry gaps in his memory, but Seifer was fairly sure he understood what had happened with what he could recall. It was mostly impressions, vague feelings of being lulled to peaceful surrender.

"It's their song. It was a spell that put me to sleep," Seifer explained succinctly, though he knew that couldn't be completely true, not after what Cerberus had told him, not after the way he currently felt. No sleep spell made you feel so under the weather, near-drowning or not.

Having finished with his gruesome task, Zell straightened with a look of confused suspicion. "That's weird. I heard it too put wasn't affected."

Seifer shrugged minutely and sheathed Hyperion. The familiar weight, if strangely heavier, was reassuring. "What else could it be? You just didn't hear it long enough."

"Still…" Zell pondered, but if he managed to come up with something, he was interrupted by Squall's arrival.

"Are you alright?" Squall asked Seifer, looking him over quickly for injuries.

"Is everyone going to ask me that? I'm fine," Seifer snapped, and to make sure they didn't notice the half-lie, he strode purposefully back to one of the small fires and grabbed a brand to use as a torch, then kicked the rest to extinguish the flames. He could feel Squall's eyes on his back, heavy and calculating. Damn the guy for knowing him too well.

"Let's just go already. It's not going to be safe sleeping in here," he said, looking around at the worried or curious with the most aloof stare he could manage until they started moving, killing fires and gathering their very few belongings.

In truth, Seifer didn't feel like moving. He felt like maybe killing some more monsters to pass his frustration, but after that, the thing he found himself wishing for the most was warmth and something comfortable to lie on. His legs were protesting against walking, that was for sure.

Seifer growled at himself and forced the compelling and pathetic ideas out of his head. He would prove that cocky bastard of a GF that he was not weak, but why he felt like proving himself to something serving him, he didn't ask and didn't want to know.

TBC