Chapter 29: A Raw Deal
A/N: Yeah, we're into the second chapter of the ToS arc. I'm predicting it to be five chapters long at the most, and at the end of it there will be some mighty weird occurrences. Let's just say that when Rick gets back to Gaia, Kodachi will make herself known.
Neither Melinda Curt nor this particular version of ToS is mine. Both are the intellectual property of Animesage, so go read The Fox Meets Sylvarant. How many times do I have to tell you people?
And a note: not to give too much away, but there is a very mature scene in the latter portion of this chapter. So for those of you who don't think you can stomach it, don't worry, because it's not an essential read.
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Something tells me that if a person were born in Palmacosta, never left the borders of the city, and somehow managed to not hear the news of the rest of the world, then that person probably wouldn't even know that Sylvarant is dying. This place is just so… alive. From what I've seen, it's about a third of the size of Lindblum, but everything is so much cleaner. There's no litter in the streets, no back alley dealings, and everyone says "Hello!" and "Good Day!" to each other.
Although, that same kindness isn't exactly being extended to my little cadre of morons. People do wave to us and smile. Until they see Hermione, that is. And it does tick me off a little. If these guys actually knew her and cut off her off, then there'd be no problem, but they're acting all leery just because she's a half-elf. I just want to tell them not to hate her because of her lineage. Hate her because she's an arrogant, stuck-up cow.
"We'll go reserve a room," Melinda says as she holds up the wad of cash I'd given her this morning. "What're you going to do?"
We did stay at the House of Salvation last night, and it just happened to be the one between Palmacosta and that weird mountain thing, which we were only able to cross because Melinda already had the pass thing. Anyway, we showed up late at night and I ended up sleeping on the floor while the girls each took a bed. And you know what? Rick is tired of sleeping in something other than a bed. Not only did he have to stay up all night when he first found himself in Sylvarant with the incredibly annoying witch that is Hermione, but the night before he had to sleep in the floor because of Naruto and Sasuke refusing to share a bed and give me one.
"Um, I'll probably hit the market and try to sell off some more of that stuff I picked up," I lie as I raise the satchel so that they can see it. Hermione rolls her eyes and demands that Melinda take her to the Palmacosta Academy after they finish things up at the Inn. Of course, she just had to find out somehow that there was a school in this world, and she insists that she may be able to find a way home by researching its library. I'm telling you, if she walks out of there with some obscure ritual that says you need to murder a buck-toothed half-elf in cold blood, I'm am so going to be in on it.
Anyway… this morning, before we left, I managed to use my utterly superior shopping skills to sell off some of that crappy armour Dagger had picked up during her little escapade with my satchel. The merchant I sold it to commented on how he'd never seen the design before. I lied and said that they were relics from a long time ago. What? It explains the rust. Besides, I made off with about five thousand Gil, Gald, Gold, or whatever the heck this world's currency is called.
So we part ways and I wander off to the market, and as soon as Hermione and Melinda are out of sight, I find the strangers who were ignoring me just minutes earlier suddenly acting as though I've been here all along. Stupid Hermione. Not only does she drag down my social status, but she also has to rub it in my face about how much better a fighter she is than me. So what if she figured out how to tap into her magical powers on the trek over here? It's not like I couldn't be some awesome warrior, beheading things and blowing up stuff. It's just that all of that blood would inevitably get onto my clothes, and I don't like the idea of ruining my carefully selected outfits. Yeah, I like the buying new ones part, but I'm not too fond of the getting rid of the old ones. I still miss my incredibly hot outfit that Dagger sold off, not to mention that cute shirt Michael gave me the last time I saw him…
No, I'm not going to let his death rule my life.
Tired of having to think, I approach the nearest stall and attempt to sell off the rest of my "worldly possessions," meaning the worthless crap Dagger and Steiner bought with my money. Seeing as how it's a place that sells seafood, let's just say my luck is less than spectacular. Then I move on to one where I see a guy trying to unload a giant sword on some twelve-year-old-girl. He looks bewildered when she runs away from his demonstration on just how cool it looks to wave around a giant sword.
"Tell me, young man, are you in the market for a weapon that is as stylish as it is deadly?" the guy, who is rather heavyset and sporting a very Luigi-like moustache, begins heaving the sword in my direction.
After mentally acknowledging the fact that I'm prone to falling, and that holding a sword while falling would mean me falling on the sword, I shake my head and instead start on a pitch of my own regarding my possessions of some ancient armour I picked up in some ruins somewhere. I say something about Valhalla, but he just looks at me like I'm nuts before wanting to see just what the goods are.
I reach into my satchel and lug the first piece of weaponry I can find into view. The man grabs it, examining the shiny blade and blue handle. Hmm… Steiner must not have touched it for it to be rust-free.
"And just what kind of sword might this be? I've been in this business a long time and never see such craftwork." The man who will henceforth be referred to as Luigi rubs his chin as he gives it a few practice swings. "Ad it shows no signs of having been used."
"Yes, well, it was a ceremonial sword. There was an ancient civilization known as the Shinobi who used it to bless their warriors before sending them off to battle," I lie far too easily for my own tastes. This whole lying thing is starting to worry me. I mean, yeah, right now I'm doing it because I really want money so that I can buy new clothes and get out of these horribly puffy pants, but who's to say I won't become a compulsive liar? Things regarding my mother and Fujin still haven't been mentioned to Hermione, let alone the fact that I'm beginning to suspect that the Sense Materia may have played a larger role in my "worldly travels" than returning me to Gaia.
Yes, it's true that it glowed and I went back to the lad of my birth, but I also know that I didn't start leaving the world of FFIX until I had put it on. It could just all be a coincidence, but the fact that it reacted with those weird stones in my satchel.
"What else have you got, kid?" he asks before eyeing my satchel greedily. Yes, I know that it's a wonderful thing, but if this guy thinks I'm going to sell it to him, he's wrong.
One by one, I unload the most worthless of things onto his counter, totalling three swords, two rods, and several pieces of armour that I couldn't name if I had a picture of each one with a caption detailing everything about it.
"I'll give you fifteen thousand for the lot," he says before spitting onto the ground beside me. I cringe but look into his face.
"Twenty."
"Sixteen."
We then begin to haggle before settling on a nice number that benefits me more than it does him. And I count my eighteen thousand five hundred in cash before stuffing it into my satchel. Luigi eyes it again, but I immediately walk away before he can make an offer on it as well.
And can I say that I am surprised that he actually fell for the whole "this is all from an ancient civilization" crap? Come on, nobody in their right mind would believe that. Then again, citizens of Sylvarant aren't exactly familiar with the works of Gaia, now are they?
I walk by an alley before someone reaches out and pulls me in. The MCoDs fly out defensively for fear of a mugging, but encounter a wall of something. Pain-wise, there isn't any when the collision occurs, but there is a numbing sensation in my fingertips. The noise of the busy streets also disappear.
"What are you doing?"
Recognizing the accent, I open my eyes that I don't remember closing and see towering over me the same brunette Scottish nutcase that had attacked me and Hermione when we first arrived here. Her hair is done a little differently this time around, tucked up into a Quistis-like bun whereas before it had been all… well, I can't exactly recall that particular detail. The knowledge was probably knocked out of my head after the first five or so punches connected with it.
Nervously, I smile and say hello. She pushes me into the wall and repeats her question. Is she some kind of thug or something?
"I don't know what you're talking about," I answer honestly.
She snorts and slams a fist into the wall beside my head. The stone cracks, and she removes her undamaged hand. The wall repairs itself with a wave of that same hand.
"Listen to me very carefully." She grabs me by the front of my ugly shirt and pulls me so close I can smell her breath. Not at all surprised, I smell some kind of liquor. "I may not be able to get you out of here, but the last thing I need is for some little punk to be screwing around. Things with Kaoru are bad enough with you adding in elements of other universes.
"I've already altered that shopkeeper's memory and deleted the information of your little armoury from the program. You can keep the money. He'll just think that he dropped it into the bay earlier."
Attempting to push her off, I find myself being rewarded by being pushed back into the wall, which is really hard. "Listen lady, I have no idea what you're talking about or how you know so much about me, so how about sharing the love and letting Rick in on some details?"
"Why? So you can screw things up even more?" she snarls.
Listen, Rick is ticked off. He's hungry, tired, in a world that he was neither born nor raised in, and is wearing an outfit that makes him wretch if he thinks too hard about it. The last thing he needs is for some drunken Amazon to be pushing him around and not even explaining anything to him.
"Just take me home!" I stomp my foot on the ground. "You're some kind of person with incredible powers, and you know that I'm not from this world. So just send me back!"
She grabs me by my shirt again and throws me into a pair of trashcans. I hit the ground and grab my shoulder where it had connected with the metal bins. She must have been holding back the other night when she laid into me, because she has incredible strength.
"I don't take kindly to being ordered," the Scot shouts as she grabs me by the hair. "Do you have any idea how much stress I'm under? Things are literally falling apart all around me. And I tried to send you back, but I can't because you're not even registering in the program. I've run the diagnostics. Neither you nor your little girlfriend show up anywhere!"
The girlfriend comment hurts even worse than the pain in my shoulder. However, I can tell that the woman looks like she's about to crack. Her eyes are bloodshot and she's compulsively clenching and unclenching her fists.
"What are you talking about?" I scream as I sit up. Why hasn't someone come to check out the commotion?
"Quit asking me that!" She leans down and picks me up with one hand, my feet dangling off the ground. "Your puny little human brain can't understand the complexities of the creation of worlds! It's not even like you're one of our clients! You're just some freak who happened to have been left unnoticed in the wrong world for ten years! You don't know ANYTHING!"
I struggle against her grip, and tears begin to fall down my face as the fear in me begins welling up. Then her eyes widen and she lets go. Landing rather roughly on my behind, I block out the pain and scoot myself as far away from her as I can get; the cool stone of one of the buildings making me shivers as it touches my back. The strange woman cringes at that.
"That's right. He doesn't know anything," she says to herself. Her eyes are in my direction, but I have the feeling that she's looking through me more than at me. "He's just some kid."
Without an apology or even a further acknowledgment of my existence, the Scottish woman vanishes. She doesn't disappear in a bolt of lightning or something equally dramatic. She was just standing there, and now she's not.
Wiping my face with my sleeve, I allow myself the relief of vomiting up my breakfast. The sounds of people shopping are once more assaulting my senses. I crawl to the place where my satchel landed. It separated from me during my flight into the garbage.
My mind cannot even begin to piece together the things that she said. I stumble back into the sunlight of the market, and Luigi catches sight of me. He begins waving his sword around and offering it to me as though I hadn't just turned him down ten minutes before. But that woman did say she'd erased her memory of me from him. What kind of a thing is she to have the kind of power to do that? She even went off on some weird tangent about creating worlds and such.
Rick isn't a religious person. He doesn't hate religion, but his experiences with it on Earth were always less than pleasant. So it's incomprehensible to him to believe that the woman who just attacked him was some sort of a god. She didn't seem omniscient. Besides, gods can't be stressed to the point of violence, can they? I mean, yeah, my parents on Earth always told me that God was going to turn me into a pillar of salt because of some towns called Sodom and something else, but they ever said that their big old dude in the sky was going to come down and beat the crap out of me.
Now I know why people drink.
Remembering my initial intent for coming here, I search the stalls until I find a place that sells clothing. I just buy a simple outfit: brown boots; a pink, button-up shirt; white jeans (which I'm surprised to find on Sylvarant); and a plain black belt. When I'm done, I hide behind some boxes in an empty booth and change, leaving behind my old outfit. Unfortunately, neither the lasting pain nor the memories of what just happened in the alley stay with my unwanted clothing.
I leave the market as fast as my feet will allow me. Hermione and Melinda are probably expecting me to return with Gels and some other supplies and crap of that nature, but I just need to get as far away from there as I can. Then I finally allow myself to become aware of the growing darkness.
There's an explosion of noise from a nearby building. It's clearly a tavern and, if my memory serves me, it's the one that was empty during the game. Maybe nobody goes there during the day?
Afraid of facing my comrades and the reality of my situation just yet, I slip into the establishment and see that it's only half filled at the moment, but someone nudges their way past me and up to the bar. Unsure of just what I'm supposed to do, I seat myself at the nearest empty table.
Within seconds, a woman holding a platter empty glasses and dirty plates makes her way over to me. She sets the dishes down on my table and pulls out a little notebook. She must be a waitress. It's nice to see that some things remain constant in all worlds.
"What can I get you?" she asks, brushing her black hair away from her face before readying her pencil and paper. "Would you like a Palma Potion, or something a little stronger?"
As tempted as I am to drink myself into amnesia, I just go ahead and order the over-priced potion. I never did find out what it was good for when I played ToS. Stupid Namco.
Eventually, I find a mug filled with purple liquid placed in front of me, and I count out the proper amount of money. She takes the bills and walks away to another table. I eye the other patrons of the tavern, ignoring my drink. There are some me and women who are clearly soldiers taking up about half of the bar, and the other half is divided up. There's a young couple sitting alone in a corner, sharing spaghetti. They eventually find themselves slurping the same noodle ad his lips meet hers in a clichéd Disney moment. Then there's the four women at the bar, each one with a different hair colour, and all of them eyeing the male soldiers on the other side of the room.
"I'm sure you didn't buy that just to let it sit there." Someone slides into one of the other seats at my table. His voice is smooth as silk. I look the guy over and wonder what the heck he wants. His hair is silver, not grey, and he looks like he's in his mid-twenties. I'd say twenty-six or so. He's also got his hand on my Palma Potion. He nudges it over to me, blue eyes flashing in the flickering light from the lanterns suspended from the ceiling. "Go ahead, give it a try."
A little leery, what with my experiences telling me that most people with his hair colour are evil, I reach out and take the flask. Not everybody with silver hair is evil, though, I guess. I mean, Angelo isn't too bad.
The stuff isn't that bad. It's not wonderful by any means, but it's better than everything else I've had since I've come to Sylvarant. All of the food is just so… plain. There isn't any really flavour to it. That's to be expected when the world is running out of Mana. I suppose.
"So what's your name kid?" the guy asks as he uses one of his fingers to lazily draw invisible circles on the table. He also smiles as he says it.
"Rick." I'm not in the mood to add my usual accompanying death threat, so I just stay quiet.
"That's a rather bland name for someone who is so obviously interesting. I wonder what thoughts are brooding behind those eyes…" his voice fades out as he ceases his nonexistent sketches. With that hand he reaches out and takes hold of the mug, his fingers overlapping mine. "What is your story, Rick? Why is someone like you here in Palma Costa. You're clearly suited for better things."
Yes, I know all of the things he said are true. I am interesting and better than this miserable little city, but why is he feeling the need to point this out? And what is with the touching? And the whole mysteriously sexy thing? Or is it sexily mysterious? Stupid adverbs.
Anyway, I forget all about the grammar when he tightens his fingers on mine. Not enough to hurt, but it does get my attention. He smiles and it's one of those things that both creeps me out and draws me in at once.
"Tell me, do you like stories?"
My jaw drops as I suddenly become aware that the guy is hitting on me. Geez, not only was I some kind of man-magnet on Gaia, but strangers are now trying to pick me up in a bar in Sylvarant. Why wasn't I this popular on Earth? Stupid teenagers.
After a few seconds of my not answering his question, but Blue Eyes smiles and releases me. "Well, I have a story for you. There was this boy, and he wanted nothing more than to see another world. He had friends who shared this dream, a boy and a girl.
"They built a raft and planned to set sail but, on the night before they planned to leave on their adventure, something happened that forced the three apart. The first boy awoke in a new world and… WHOA! Are you okay?"
I'm certain that I would've heard some mention of Traverse Town had my head not just collided with the table. Okay, the last thing I need while being all miserable and broody is for some guy to use the plot of Kingdom Hearts as a pickup line. If it weren't for my stupid mother telling me that thousands of universes are linked at once, I would swear that it was impossible for someone in Sylvarant to know that story.
"I'm not in the mood for stories," I mumble against the warped wood.
Fully expecting the stranger to make a run for the door, I'm rather surprised when he grabs me by the hair (something I'm not used to thanks to the unrelated stupidity of Steiner and Yuffie) and lifts my head up so that I can see his face.
"Fine then, how about I show you something?"
I probably shouldn't go with him, but it's not like anything worse can happen than having some weird Scottish woman beat me up for selling off worthless junk that Dagger bought with the money she gained from selling the suit that made me look absolutely sexy, even if it was meant for a dead guy.
We stand up and leave my mostly untouched, overpriced drink behind. None of the other customers pay us any mind.
My mind can't fathom why I'm bothering to follow this man. I haven't even known him an hour, and he hasn't told me his name. Something in the back of my mind says that this is a bad idea, but I ignore it. The stupid voices in the back of my head haven't done jack for me. I listen to them and end up lying to everyone about everything in my life. And my decision process hasn't exactly been the best, either. Rick has always charged ahead and done what he wants, and screw everyone else. That's probably why Jessica hates me, and I'm pretty sure Angelo isn't too fond that I've run off again. And this time it really is me. I cheated on Michael twice, physically with Angelo and mentally with Zidane, and didn't eve go to his funeral because I thought I didn't deserve to go. It wasn't about me, though. That was supposed to be about him. So maybe that's why I'm following this man even though I don't want to. It's because I don't want to that I am. In what universe does that logic make sense, I wonder?
Eventually we find ourselves on the outskirts of the city. There's still sufficient enough Mana to drive away the monsters, provided they operate in a similar manner to the Mist and its monsters on Gaia. However, there aren't any people, either.
"What are you going to show me?" I ask impatiently as I look skyward. There are two moons. If memory serves me, one of them is called Te'thealla. And this world is Sylvarant. So what is the other chunk of dirt flying around in space called?
He says something lowly, so that I can't hear, and my eyes drift over to him. His shirt is pooled around his feet. His silver hair is reflecting the blue hue of the moons light, and his skin suddenly seems much paler than it had back in the bar. The man has one of those bodies that show he clearly has a career involving heavy labour. Michael had muscles, too, but they weren't this defined. Neither were Zidane's.
"Don't."
The word slips out of my mouth, independent of the thoughts swirling through my head. I want that body pressed up against mine, I want to taste those lips. I want to forget everything. For just a little while, I want to stop being a Drifter, a prince, Zidane's flamboyant buddy and Dagger's unspoken rival for his affections. I don't want to be the weak little boy who pretends he's grown up, running around the world on some grand adventure with people he doesn't know, some of whom he doesn't even like. I don't want to be reduced to living in one world and dreaming of another. I don't want to spend eternity on Sylvarant, hoping to return to Gaia someday, or actually getting back to Gaia and wondering if I should go back to Earth. I don't want to return to those redneck roots of mine and waste my time hoping for an escape from the boredom and the rampant pettiness.
For just a few minutes, I want to not be.
He starts to say something, probably asking what I'm talking about, but I pounce. The kiss isn't like ones I shared with Michael, or the ones I gave Zidane and Dagger. I'm used to having someone else dominating the kiss, but now I'm the one taking the reins and I pull this stranger down to my lips. My tongue invades his mouth awkwardly, coaxing his into mine. My hands travel up and down his back.
This man, he begins pulling at my clothes, tearing them off me. And I don't care. My hands reach for his belt, undoing the clasp as I moan into his mouth. One of his hands moves up to grab my hair once more, and he pulls my head back. Lips, tongue, and teeth attack my neck as I succeed in undoing his belt. His pants fall to the ground as well, and our equilibrium is disturbed as he steps out of them.
My breath catches in my throat as one of his hands plunge into my pants. Not my underwear, mind you, but there's some definite groping. Then I take the initiative again and my tongue leaves a trail of saliva on his chest. The hand removing my clothes tugs at the remains of my shirt, and I hold my arms out to let it fall. Then we press together, the heat of our skin driving away the chill of the night.
Fingers, my fingers, trace his stomach muscles, playing for a moment in the line of hair leading from his navel to nether regions. The guy leans down and recaptures my lips, most likely bruising them with the force of the collision. His silver hair tickles my cheek.
Soon enough, we're on the ground with leaning over me. The grass and dirt poke me in the back, but I just focus on those lips. My attention concentrates on his hands, one as continues to shed me of my clothing, the other as it acts as though I don't have any clothing at all. I even focus on my own hands as they peel back the last garment he's wearing. The soft skin feels good to my fingertips.
He moans my name against my lips as I explore his backside. I return the moan, but it's wordless because I don't know his name. I don't think I want to. For tonight, he can just be…
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A/N: And thus the fangirls hate me for cutting off at that crucial moment. Sorry. I do NOT need another M-rated fic on my hands. One is quite enough thank you. And it doesn't even really have steamy, sexy scenes like the one above! Although I'm not sure if I did a good job writing it. But that's what you're here for! And to the straight guys that read this… Hey, I warned you in the opening author's notes, so no complaining.
