A/N: So many chapters updated in one day? Crazy! But this story is easy to write since the language is different than my other stories (does that make sense?) I feel like the vibe is closer to saturday morning adventure sometimes, despite the gross horror and the at times gratuitous amount of curse words. It's just different! Like, the way I approach it, there's a fantasy angle I'm taking with Boys Named, (although that one genre switches all the time, lord help me) and an obvious very romantic/comedy and a dash of dramatic timing I want with Complicated, Complicated, Love. But I am the author of them all, so there's probably hardly any difference.
Anyways, another chapter I'm proud of! I made my girlfriend cringe at one part, and when I'm writing horror I feel like that's a good thing? On we go!~
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Speak No Evil, Hear No Evil, See No Evil
Chapter 11: To Brace Oneself Against the Rising Tides
"Miss, before you get all...locked up, do you think-maybe-" The Fem-Goon with the sweet voice hesitated at her door, which the lock had already been reversed on and most of the most iconic and recognizable things in her room- extra drapery, the Nooj statue, even the glass bottles on her dresser table-had been removed through. Leblanc realized this was all temporary, but felt strange standing in the gutted space nonetheless. The goon seemed to notice this, and with some gathering courage finished. "You look very tired and stressed, Boss. It'd be trying enough for anyone under these circumstances...so, would you perhaps want one last massage before being left alone for so long?"
Three days would hardly be so long, Leblanc thought, more in an effort to encourage herself than send voiceless vibes across the space to the goon. Her shoulders sagged in a relenting way however, at the Fem-Goon's suggestion. It sounded nice, and was one of her go-to comforts, a vice almost. Logos and Ormi had their own little creature luxuries that made things easier, but hers would always be the touch on her back and neck that literally pulled the tension straight out of her.
"Would you mind a real one? I'll get the towels." The goon chirped. A real one was a polite way of meaning without her dress on, which is probably why it was suggested as the male goons cleared out of her room. The Fem-Goon who reported for her duties on such matters had been a proper masseuse in Luca, and an expert on bone adjustment and even such things as acupuncture and various strange but no less relaxing therapies. Sometimes a real one meant hot stones, or musical vibrations, or even body scrubs and oils, almost always including pleasant smells from candles or incense for the aroma aspect. Leblanc didn't often waste time on the whole thing, opting for shorter sessions through her dress, despite its effectiveness in relieving all sorts of pain. It was reserved for moments at the most trying of times, or perhaps when she wished to treat herself.
Now was a good time as ever, wasn't it?
She stripped out her dress, immodest though she was she would never do this so casually in front of anyone but the goon before her. The goon shook her hands in an excited way, glad to help in anyway her limited powers could. It was needless to say, but the syndicate was in a shivering buzz with their leaderships' newest afflictions, anxiety and helplessness cursing them as well. They had survived many internal crises, often with Logos's help in keeping it contained on a need to know basis, such as when Leblanc's depression got the better of her. Or when she had taken off by herself into the wilds of Spira in search of Nooj. However, their latest problems could not be kept under wraps, and so all the Goons sought to help where they could for their own mind's ease as well as their beloved leaders.
Logos was moving about with many male goons downstairs, seeing as best he might, to the various tasks that would need to be completed in one night's time. The Gullwings were resting in spare rooms, welcomed as honored guests for once, as word spread of their coming importance in possibly reversing this damn curse. Ormi, often invaluable in overseeing large things freighted about, was still laid up and was absent from their preparations. It was very odd day for the Syndicate.
So, Leblanc trembled a little in leftover anxiety as she laid down on the towels that the Goon had brought and crossed her arms under her to lay her head into it. It would probably do her good. A little island of calm in the raging storm. Burning herbs and floral scents wafted dreamlike around her head, as the Fem-Goon fluttered around the bones of her bed. "Alright, Boss- We'll just do oils this time, okay? Ready?"
Leblanc nodded her consent, before the goon placed her hands on her. As she worked she chatted softly, not about much, but her tones were melodic and soothing. She was speaking low in her throat, and Leblanc's ears tingled a bit before her eyes drifted closed as the girl kneaded up and down the edges of her spine, and around the knots hidden in her back. Out like a light Logos had teased once about her tendency. She yawned, drifting over the silk sheets towards oblivion.
Then she flinched, the girl's hand catching something. She would've snapped, Ow! Or the like if she could, but her own head rising up and whirling over her shoulder was enough clue for the girl to tear her hands away from her.
"Sorry! I'll be careful around there!" The silently reprimanded girl exclaimed before putting her palms back down into a place she knew Leblanc had a lot of tension, and was most appreciated. Leblanc oozed back down again, ready to succumb to the restful effects, when it happened again. There was a sharp pain zinging up her spine that had Leblanc clenching her fists into the mattress.
Something wasn't right-
The girl seemed to notice at the same time, she peeling back her hands with a little sticky ripping sensation. She curiously overturned her palms, peering down into them to inspect the surface. The intricate creases were darkly lined and warm. A bit pooled past the heel of her palm, before it dripped down the length of her wrist.
"LOGOS!" The girl's scream caused him to jump, the shriek terrifyingly shrill and harsh. "Logos! Come quick- It's-It's the Boss!"
Nothing would have moved him quicker. He threw aside whatever he had been holding for the Goon changing the locks on Ormi's door before loping after the hard rhythm of high heels flying up the slope away from him. He grazed his shoulder on the secret passageway door, only half turned ajar, before he navigated the living room with some ease due to his earlier counting and measuring. The girl was still shouting at him, he demanding an explanation.
"What happened?!"
"I don't know what- I just was rubbing her back like usual when it just- it's all-" She was a little hysterical, her usual sweetness dissolving into salty tears.
"Calm down, I need you-" Logos ran after her as her sobbing floated through the darkness away from him. He hit the door to the foyer, as it swung back from her crossing, before thrusting his arm to cast it out of his way."Tell me!"
"You have to come and help!" The Fem-Goon, heedless to his own difficulty keeping up with her, rounded the curving stairs back to Leblanc's chambers. Logos had not counted these stairs and so as he tripped at the top, expecting one more step than there was. He fell onto a knee, he keeping his forward movement even then, springing forward and through Leblanc's door as panic of the unknown gripped him.
"What's wrong?" He shouted into the soft space of carpeted room and paneled walls. "Boss?"
She could not answer him, trembling into the bed with her arms crossed over her chest and gripping her arms tightly. Her spine was repeatedly arching, coiling and unfurling with waves of pain. The Fem-Goon was hovering nearby, wringing her sticky hands, as Leblanc hunched again and opened her mouth in a silent scream that rocked her frame into a violent vibration.
The Goon startled as Logos gripped her shoulder, "Tell me what's happening?"
"Her back is all split open!" The goon waved her stained hands through the air, hiccuping, "Th-there's little cuts, I don't know where they came from- they weren't there before!"
Logos's brows furrowed, his face darting about as many thoughts turned over in the machine of his mind. He could hear Leblanc's body rasp over the sheets as she jolted, as if hit by something sudden and hard. The goon could see another tear appear, ripping down like her flesh was paper, revealing the red meat underneath.
"Oh my god, I can see it spreading open-" The goon said thoughtlessly, covering her mouth. At that concerning statement, Logos reached for Leblanc through the shadows.
A flat hand met his cheek, whipping his face sideways just as he made contact. He realized something as the incredible force, which he knew Leblanc was more than capable of but had a hard time checking, flung him nearly to the floor if he didn't catch himself on the edge of her bed.
"Ah. She's naked." Logos said, breathing hard as the sting rippled over his flesh and echoed through the lines etching down from his eyes. There was a momentary spark of anger at the pain, but he understood why it had been delivered as his hand had landed not on a pink clad shoulder, as he had assumed was nearby, but on an exposed chest. He whirled his prickling face to the space where the goon noisily whined. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I'm sorry!" The accused goon sputtered. In her haste she had made for the one person that they always went to when Leblanc was not available- without concern to the vulnerable state Leblanc was in. "I panicked-!"
Logos cradled his cheek, picking himself up. "Boss, I apologize-" He quickly turned back to the goon, who was babbling a bit as she lost herself in a frenzy. "Ice. Towels. Doctor. Go now!"
Leblanc threw herself forward and was sobbing into the mattress, her shoulders quaking against the rising welts and rendering skin that striped her back. Logos, cautiously, reached out and correctly landed on her shoulder as the Goon chased after his demands.
His hand was lightly held there, barely touching. "Is it bad?"
Leblanc looked up with tears streaking her cheeks, reddening her face. She nodded, before remembering and lifting her hand to shakily tap twice into his hand. She then gripped it, squeezing in time as another swelling outbreak rocked her frame.
"I'll find you some potions or-" He rose to stand again, but was stopped short of turning around by the hand still in his, before it transferred a little slowly from his palm into the material of his long trailing sleeves. "Boss?"
Her fingers tightened into his sleeve, refusing to let go.
"I'll...I'll stay here then." He returned to facing her, before lowering himself on one knee to level himself beside the bed. The goon reappeared with the ice and towels, which she handed to Logos as he blindly held out his hands for it, as best as he might with the one hand restricted by Leblanc's grasping, before she took off for the doctor. Logos shook the towel wrapped ice and asked, "Do you want this?"
He was only going off his instincts, which were unraveling in their certainty the longer this ordeal went on. She tapped his forearm twice, and he lowered the bundle against the back of her shoulders. It stung, as anything that touched would, but there was a bit of numbing relief as the ice was very very cold. Leblanc shuddered on another hard to draw breath. Logos's mouth twisted upwards, his nose wrinkling in barely contained emotions that revealed how upset he was. He could feel every twitch through the air, against his sleeve in his Boss's clutches rasping over his forearms, through the edge of the bed Leblanc buried herself in. He could feel it, and as yet do nothing to help.
Leblanc wheezed on another breath, letting go of his sleeve finally to reach out and grap Logos's wrist instead with a kind of desperate motion to find stability. She squeezed very hard, to the point that Logos himself winced. Another slow slice was working it's way down the length of her spine, blood dribbling from it thickly and followed the curves of her sides down towards the bedspread. The doctor arrived to witness the end of it's slow descent.
"Fayth!" the Dr. Goon exclaimed, revealing his old Yevon habits, before stammering, "What the hell is going on?"
"It's the curse I suspect." Logos bared his teeth as Leblanc nearly crunched his wrist in her hand, "Help her best you can and tell me what's going on."
There was little to do but chase after each wound as it appeared. There were welts, and long raw stripes that manifested deeply in her flesh, first along her back then the back of her thighs and slowly a little on her chest and stomach too. She was naked and exposed, save for some undergarments, but before the Doctor and the favored goon, this was little trouble. She might've had a mind to be more self conscious around Logos too, were it not for the fact that he was blind and she was too wracked with pain besides. He did not carelessly grab her, aware now of her state of undress, and that helped. It took many hours for the strange episode to come to an end, her bedspread smeared in the dry crusty brown of blood.
"Robe, now." Logos tiredly commanded the Fem-Goon, who had nearly fainted several times during the spell. She nodded a little queasily before retrieving something lightweight to cover a now bandaged Leblanc in. She helped her put it on, Leblanc wincing and crying still even as no new marks appeared.
"I'm not going to pretend I understand how-" The Doctor lowered his gruff voice so that only the second-in-command could hear, as the Boss was properly dressed deeper in the room. "-But she looks like she was whipped-"
Logos recalled the distinct cracking in the spheres, coming to a horrid understanding. Many other things floated into his mind about the spheres, and the newest development in this curse did not bode well. He grimaced as he achingly rubbed his wrist, which was blossoming in a mean bruise, where Leblanc had crushed it severely while he had tried to offer support. As much good as it did. "Thank you. Get someone to change that mess out-" He gestured to the stained bedding, before turning to the task of easing the throbbing in his arm. "She'll want to rest now."
The Goon dipped his head and turned on his heel again to carry out his orders. Leblanc, on wobbly legs, was assisted by the Fem-Goon back to the red velvet couch as more goons shuffled in, casting nervous-eyes to her through masks before teaming up to change the huge length of her bedding. While they had not heard her cries, ripping from her silenced throat, they had almost felt it as word got around about Leblanc's worsening condition. Logos stood nearby, and Leblanc's hand reached out and gripped his sleeve again.
His sightless eyes peered down at it, before lifting up to approximately her face. "Boss?"
She squeezed his arm through the fabric of his coat. Once. No. What did she mean?
"I don't understand-" Logos's voice was a little more desperate and thin then he would like to admit it ever becoming. He shook his head, craning his neck down as he sought to find in the swarming darkness what was his leader.
She squeezed long and hard, once. No.
What she was trying to communicate, even Leblanc wasn't sure. However, as she was gently bid to rise on her feet again by the gunner and directed towards the freshly made bed, the goons dismissed and shuffling out away from them, she repeated the earlier sentiment. No.
The lights were dimmed to allow for a more subdued atmosphere, and the night had crept in late anyways. Logos paid no mind, unable to observe this change, but the shadows closed in upon Leblanc a little too quickly to be comforting.
"It's alright now." Logos, giving up trying to understand, instead tried to soothe.
No.
"Lay down, it'll be over soon." Logos spoke these words as much of a reassurance to himself than anyone else. His abused nerves needed something to hold onto, and he only had the frail hope that what he said was true.
No. Leblanc gripped his arm again as he let go of her and tried to walk away. His shoulder jerked back with how violently she ripped him backwards.
No.
"You still don't want me to leave?" Logos asked, quietly and with his face pointed away as the darkened room enclosed them. She moved her hand from his wrist, which underneath the wrapping was now throbbing from her barely checked strength and sore. She lightly gripped his sleeve and only sighed in relief as he turned and swooped down to one knee beside her bed again.
"Are you afraid?"
She tapped into the back of his hand which was placed between both of hers. Twice. Yes. She was afraid. This was getting out of control, out of her control. She could withstand any pain, deal with any challenge, but this enemy which could not be seen or touched was, quite possibly, out of her depth. And she didn't like it. She quivered through her limbs, Logos feeling it through his finger ends that touched her wrist as it was entrapped between her hands.
"I'm here." He tried to reassure, not certain why he said this or why it would offer any consolation. But what else could he do? He could do nothing. Even as the Dr. Goon attended to her, he could do nothing. Even as the curse advanced over his own face, he could do nothing to stop it. He remembered then, the dream he had forgotten, and the little boy with bleeding eyes who had accused him of powerlessness. His fingers tightened into a fist in between her bare hands. No, he couldn't possibly give into the temptation. The very notion of giving up, as he had once slipped into what felt like a lifetime ago. Leblanc had saved himself and Ormi then, when they had been entirely different people, taking them in and unknowingly shaping them anew. If she had done so, with only her presence and her own desires heedless to the effect that she had on them, then he could manage the same for her, of all people. It was the least he could do. It was all he could do. With more confidence, he repeated, "I'm here."
Leblanc loosened her hands around his tight fist, feeling it quake angrily in her hands. She nodded, once, before slipping sideways in a swooning motion to her bed. She laid on her side, still holding Logos's fist in her cupped hands. She blinked, feeling the exhaustion clutch her more definitely in the shadowed room. She could still feel Logos there, could hear him breathe, and while the thought of being alone right now was unbearable, and so it didn't matter who it was beside her, she was happy it was him. He had a way of keeping things together, when everything fell apart. Like when she ran away and he convinced her to come back. Or before then, when he had tried to cheer her up by using that stupid impression of Nooj, his version worse than Ormi's.
She could still feel the oncoming swell of danger, like a tidal wave rising high above, about to crash over them. Logos could feel it too, and he dug his knee into the rug, bracing himself. There would be nothing to hold them on their feet, no matter how they bore into the ground. But, maybe not all was lost. There was an anchor point, to bring them back down, wasn't there? It had no name, but Leblanc suddenly sensed the small presence as she drifted to sleep. A bubble of a thought, about to pop if she didn't call out to it. An answer, perhaps, to all their troubles. Her hands rhythmically squeezed his captured one. Twice. Yes.
She fell asleep before she understood what it was her thoughts were leading her towards.
