Never Deal with a Dragon
(Editted by Ivyna! ^_~)
Disclaim... well, this IS the seventh chapter in this story, so I really shouldn't have to tell you all that I don't own the rights to Final Fantasy IX, right? After all, if I did, I'd certainly be sitting back, sipping something heavily alcoholic and laughing my arse off, pointing at you and laughing in a Simpson-esque manner. So I don't own it, okay? Okay?? Rub it in why don't you!? Hurt my delicate feelings!! Why don't you steal 123 while you're at it?? Wait! Don't! Bring back my character! Waaah! *runs after them*
Well anyway, I don't own it. *sniff* So lets all just give a black mage a hug (except 192, hug him and you'll get a knee to the groin) and sit back. This installment in the tale of 123 is almost over, fancy that? Like I've been promising recently, new characters soon, new situations. Be patient ^_^ Oh, and if yer all curious, you could e-mail me at sad_mudokon@hotmail.com to find out what happened in 192's past. (though I'd advise serious consideration of whether or not you truly want to know ~_^)
I guess there's still a bit of programming left in us, after all. I certainly don't remember actually moving- not that I moved all that much. I didn't remember raising my arms, they were just in the air, hands outstretched and fingers tensed, almost painfully… and the echo of that word. Not Blizzard, Blizarra, or a dozen others I could have shouted… No, just that old, sad word. KILL. I heard it, from the mouths of my brothers, echoed a dozen times over. Time seemed to be standing still, or was that just the aftereffects of the dozen or so Slow and Stop spells that had suddenly slammed into that poor dragon? I mean, it WAS trying to eat 192, but that's still a bit of a harsh thing to do to a living thing…. No wonder everyone was afraid of the black mages. I can't say I'd blame them.
Time was moving astoundingly slow. I just stood there, watching calmly, almost curiously, as my spell hit. It wasn't an orthodox spell, I know- I shouldn't have used it, I didn't know what it would do. It was dangerous in theory, but as the few drops of blood hit me in the eye, I found it surprisingly effective. Gruesomely effective. Overall, I'd say the last thing the dragon had to worry about was a handful of chronology spells as my Monomolecular Wind Scythe sheared into- and then through- that thin, whip like neck. The dark, powerful muscles and shiny scales were suddenly obscured in a spray of blood as the thin line of air (carefully crafted with an intricate chain molecular wave propulsion system, devised by yours truly, at the head of which is a single molecular strand of time bonded air molecules, creating a razor edge which- oh shoot okay I'll leave it alone….) well, the thin line of air decapitated the poor beastie.
192 screamed like a little girl, curling into a tight, fetal ball as the jaws descended, pinning him to the wall. But the bite didn't come- just a wave of foul smelling, stinging blood that suddenly poured in a high pressure gout from the throat, soaking the traumatized 192 in the dark, acrid ichor. The jaws pinned him to the wall, muscles rigid with death as the body shook, the five or so feet of empty air between the head and neck illustrating the rather dead nature of the beast.
But there was that instinct again. As harshly decapitating as my blade spell was, I'm not even really sure I was the one who struck the deathblow. Almost directly behind mine, another wind scythe-esque blade, thicker and far more damaging, slashed through the neck, not severing the now hanging piece so much as shattering the flesh to a disgusting pulpy mess… A few inches behind that, a spell which, if I can pull it out of the throng sounded something along the lines of Razorsomethingorother Cyclone, suddenly plowed through the base of the throat, taking out a section a little thicker than my torso. I can only feel sympathy for the mages on the other side of that particular attack.
A dozen harsh scythes and blades of ice suddenly materialized, cutting deep and rending through the brilliant red scales, feathers cascading down in a wave from the stump of one wing, the mangled remains of the other… The last remnants of the Stop spells began to fade, the arcane alterations to the beasts body having been targeted at brutal and fatal key points, the last flutters of time magic fading in the chest, from where they had frozen heart and lungs. The body, more ground meat than thrashing dragon, suddenly tottered in the bright portal it was perched upon. The gruesome, headless beast, still spraying great gouts of stinking blood, reared up suddenly, whipping the blood hose of a neck around, as if it still had the ability to feel the mortal pain…. and slowly toppled, one wrecked wing pumping pathetically as, with a great groan of tearing splinters, the body fell back, spewing feathers and blood and was gone. The dust swirled back into the open hole, tinted gold in the faint half-light….
…Time snapped back with an almost painful recoil. Shaking helplessly, I could only stare, feeling the shock and the singing adrenaline begin to fade, the harsh smell of my blood flecked robes rising sickeningly…. It almost couldn't be real. I stared, utterly shocked, bloody and stinking, my arms still outstretched in an agonizing position. I- I hadn't even thought. I just…. and then they…. and the dragon, it was- it was…. My hands fell to my sides with a thump, fingers curling into my palms as I suddenly gritted my teeth, breath wheezing as I tried to avoid emptying whatever pitiful contents of my stomach I had onto the weathered floorboards…. 69 wasn't so lucky as he collapsed to hands and knees, retching miserably….
Moving as if in a dream, I turned my head, eyes wide….
192 stared, his eyes narrowed and his arms crossed, the finger length fangs pressed rather dangerously to the stomach of his coat, his face, hat and jacket soaked in dark, almost purplish blood. It dripped sullenly from his wilted hat as he leaned against the wall he was pinned to, his eyes a disturbing, unfamiliar reddish gold. He cleared his throat scratchily, spitting dark red onto the aged wood and snapped, "Would somebody PLEASE mind helping me with the rather large DRAGON'S JAWS locked around my stomach?? PLEASE!?" He thumps the side of the muzzle with a clenched hand, gesticulating in rage at the toothy vice pinning him back. "…Um… NOW??"
I shake my head with a snap, mind fuzzy, and slip forward in a rush, feeling strangely sleepy with shock. Face sheepish, I run my fingers over the fangs, grasping right behind one of the lower canines where the tooth isn't that sharp, and pull as hard as I can. The head barely even wobbled. Another tug…. 56 moves up behind me, his eyes troubled as he grabs the lip between upper and lower jaw, scrambling to pull…. A type C on the other side begins chipping at the stone around the front of the jaw, levering the head away.
It takes about ten of us to pull the head away, still slick and stinking, and toss the icky thing aside. My gloves are soaked and slimy, smelling of half rotten catfish…. Ugh. Shaking my fingers, I glance up to 192, his eyes narrowed in despondent revulsion as the blood courses down his neck, his coat thick and heavy with the horrid stuff…. Sighing, he wrings the edge of his coat out with a splatter of blood, the gesture utterly pointless on the sodden cloth. His voice is droll. "Well, wasn't that an interesting little diversion? I feel right cheerful now, right fucking exultant! Oh yeah, today is truly turning into an uplifting day." Sputtering dragon's blood, 192 slips the hat from his blood slicked head, shaking it several times, and glances up, eyes thin brown slits at the sound of soft, droll applause.
Kuja smirked softly, clapping with a limp wristed lethargy, his eyes cool as he approached the group of sodden mages. Smiling softly, he bent a little, staring into 192's eyes. His voice is soft and amused, tone gentle. "Well now. That was certainly a heartening sight. Glad to know you little guys haven't really degenerated into tree hugging hippies like I had feared…." Gently readjusting 192's dripping collar with a pale alabaster hand, Kuja smirks, straightening the cloth and meeting the revolted, loathing gaze of the now utterly shivering mage in his grip.
Every muscle in 192's body seemed ready to snap, a definite tick in his left cheek and his black on black teeth bared as he stood there, locked in the gentle touch of the pale man before him…. Eyes narrowed and breath seething in his throat, 192 stared at a small, unremarkable point somewhere to the right of Kuja's face, his expression tight, halfway between deadpan and the most fearsome of ferals. Kuja just laughed, readjusting the collar and straightened, cleaning his fingers on the back of my coat as he walked past.
"Had enough fun for today little ones? We have so much to do, oh yes…. Mustn't dally now, move smartly gents…. We have quite a ways to go…."
---
"I'm going to smack him one day. I really am..." Muttering as he walked, 192 clenched his fist... His voice seemed a little less livid then normal, and his eyes were dull. A bit of his fire seemed to have gone out, and it was odd seeing him this way. We were going downwards, walking a narrow spiral over a deep, flat-bottomed pit... I glanced behind me, curiously, looking towards the back of the line. If all the mages seemed to be high strung, tense and worried, it didn't compare at all to Zorn and Thorn. Nobody was looking at them, all eyes either turned towards the front, towards the ground directly in front of each black mage's cloth covered, shuffling feet- or down into the gloomy depths of the pit.
They looked really depressed, each movement slow and tense, as if it caused them pain. Zorn's eyes were fixed straight forward, locked on the back of the mage before him, his expression stormy, surly and tense. Each step was hampered, shuffling, and long as he struggled, shooting a perturbed glare to his brother, who had his face pressed into Zorn's shoulder. He wasn't so much walking as dangling from his other's shoulders, arms locked around his chest... Every few steps, Zorn would pause, trying with straining fingers and an irate growl to shake his 'brother' from his torso. Actions halfhearted, in resignation as he pulled the other red hued jester behind him, his face a fierce scowl. 44 occasionally turned to look, face confused. He usually received a growl for his efforts...
My feet ached. I had always enjoyed walks out in the forest, strolling through the sylvan, sublime beauty of the sun dappled trees, the gentle green moss, the waving plant life around me, subtly singing... But, as I trudged through the newest drift of dust, this was as far from a pleasant walk as one could imagine without throwing in elements like pools of lava or acid rain.
"And so we are here! Rejoice!" Tossing up his hands in a theatrical wave, Kuja broke through the opening, his face ecstatic and his steps light. We filed into the area apprehensively, faces etched with troubled grimaces and eyes wide.
I slipped into the area, letting a soiled glove trail over the rough, slate gray wall. 69 shuffled in beside me, his neck craning to stare up into the gloom looming above us. I blinked softly, following his gaze into the flue of empty darkness above us all...
"Fuckin'ell- move you sodding jerk!" Hands found my back, nearly sending me sprawling from 192's rough, callous shove. 56 squeaked as I slammed into him, arms involuntarily wrapping around his waist as I fell against him, the plush A stumbling with a wild windmilling of his arms. 69 yelped as a flailing hand found him, ducking back with a stinging face- 192, scowling at the lot of us, pushed forward, nudging aside a much larger C with a growl and slipping to the front of the group. Rankled, I followed him, followed closely by 56 and a wincing 69, the mage rubbing tenderly at his cheek.
Kuja... he looked majestic, poised and sure, as he stared at the small, unremarkable space like it was holy ground. His face positively shown, grinning with a luminous radiance. 44 approached meekly at the curt snap, his movements kindly and gentle as he slipped forward, plush arms cupping the little, horn crowned girl to his chest. Gently smoothing back a strand of bluish violet hair, he crooned hopelessly, laying her softly down upon the hard floor.
192 tensed, his fists tight. Wincing back with a meek whimper, 44 ducked back as Kuja snapped out with a tight backhand, slapping the large A away from the girl between them. 44 retreated, hugging himself as he slipped to the back of the group, his posture slumped and miserable. I couldn't help but stare at him sorrowfully as he slid past, staring into those misery- choked eyes....
Kuja's hands were soft, sliding through the purple bangs, tracing softly around the base of the horn with slow, rhythmic movements, Kuja crouched, unmoving, his face intent and pensive.... Not looking up, he suddenly smiled, his voice low.
"Zoooorn... Thoooorn.... Come here, my useless little freaks.... I have need of you."
Face ugly with apprehension, Zorn slipped forward, one hand protectively thrown across his other's chest. Thorn stared, hunched slightly as he moved up beside his brother, hand briefly entwining his blue clad other's own....
"You called, Master Kuja?"
"A need of us you have?"
His hand gently rising, Kuja beckoned the pair with a languid gesture, indicating them closer... Shooting each other an apprehensive look, the two jesters slid forward cautiously, eyes intent on their master... Thorn, eyes wincing closed, suddenly fell to his knees with a thick crunch as the pale fingers wound in his collar, tugging him forward with a snap-
"Eidolons. Extraction. Now."
Stammering as he adjusted his hat, the red clad jester blinked miserably, staring fearfully at the pale effigy before him. Zorn coughed softly, nervously. "But Master Kuja- sh-she is only six years old! A safe Eidolon extraction won't be able to be performed on the child for another ten years!" Sweat running from under his jester's cap, Zorn ducked back from the look his master shot him. Thorn gagged as the collar of cloth tightened at his throat.
"Eidolons-"
"But- but Master Kuja-"
"Extraction-"
"Bring harm to the poor child you will, Master Kuja!"
"~NOW~"
Thorn shook as his blue brother picked him from the pale man's grip with a submissive nod, hat jangling. "As you wish, my Master..." Whisper hoarse and comforting, Zorn led his shaking brother to the center of the room, Thorn's hand weak as he massaged some life back into the thin, wrinkled skin at his throat. Zorn shot the pale man a long, troubled look before the two began to move into positions, muttering softly beneath their breath...
Surveying his upcoming handiwork, Kuja stood, hands on his hips and a smile across his painted face.
"Great perverted Gods, Kuja, what the hell are you going to do to the poor kid?!" Snarling beside me, 192 stepped out, eyes narrowed on the back of the man before him... and stopped. Back tense and eyes wary, he watched the effeminate albino sorcerer turn.... and shrank away with an involuntary whimper.
Kuja did not look happy. As one would remember a small, misbehaving dog they had forgotten was there, Kuja looked down at the slighter mage, his expression disparaging. His voice came out a jaded hiss. "Still your tongue dog, lest you be silenced like one...."
I was staring right at 192 when the words hit, watched him turn gray.... One shaking hand rising to his throat, the normally brash, grumpy type B suddenly stilled, his eyes wide... I blinked, watching the liquid silver slide down his face as the other mage, normally so strong and so very unpleasant, suddenly whimpered softly and crept to the back of the crowd. 44 blinked in surprise as the touch-wary 192 suddenly buried his face in the big mage's shoulder and didn't make a sound. Hands awkward, he patted the other's shoulder, looking at his brothers with a confused supplication for help...
Kuja's eyes were on us, sliding over us, his face a mask of gentle amusement. And somehow that small musing grin was worse than a thousand stormy expressions.... Gently moving forward, Kuja crooned softly, herding the forefront mages before him with small shooing motions of his hands. "Come on now silly little mages. Let the Jester Twins work..."
We moved away from him, slipping back the way we had come and into a small alcove, half spilled out behind him and eyes wide. Packed tightly, I gently leaned against 56's side as the A moved in ahead of me, watching over his shoulder as he reached behind him, patting my hip in a comforting manner. I silently laid my hand over his, squeezing....
---
Lying in the intricate circle carved in the dust, the small child lay as one dead, her perfect porcelain face composed in a faint pout of worry, even in sleep. Limbs limp, she slept softly, breath slow and unnaturally shallow....
Zorn and Thorn stood unmoving, staring down at the pale faced child. Running a hand over the back of his neck, Thorn stared, at a total loss. Zorn growled, shaking his head in a jingling cacophony of bells, his expression sour and resigned. Nodding to the nervous red and white clothed harlequin, Zorn rubbed his hands together, shook the sleeves from his wrists, and sighed. Clearing his throat, Zorn coughed once, bitterly, and drew a deep, fluttering breath.
"Eidolons of eternal life!" Voice resounding and strong, Zorn called out the words in a clear, surprising tenor, his eyes closing as he raised his hands to the darkness above him.
Frightened to fall out of synch, Thorn drew a deep breath and called out, his voice firm and a half octave higher than his brother's.... "Eidolons of infinite power!" Chiming in with perfect timing, Thorn called out, continuing the spell.... Switching spots with a wild gymnastic turning half cartwheel, the two jesters moved in perfect synchronization, slamming into the dust with a precision that would make an Olympic athlete feel stupid and clumsy.
Straightening with a harsh crackling of his back, Zorn closed his eyes, singing the spell in firm, forceful tones. "Arise from thy eternal slumber!"
Thorn called out a beat after his twin, his voice free of the confusing mismatched grammar and backward speech. Following the simple rhythm of the spell, he matched the cadence word for word, slipping into the meditative half hypnotism of the spell, reciting each part perfectly. "Depart after thy endless wait!"
Zorn called out, surrendering to the spell. "Let there be light!"
Eyes glazed, Thorn sang the words out, echoing across the stone. "Let there be life!"
Almost falling out of synch, the two jesters paused as the form within the circle suddenly twitched.... and rose in a cloud of dust and disturbing, flashing sparkles cascading down from her faint, slight body. Shaking his head, Zorn began the wild, capricious dance once again, his eyes closed in concentration as he stilled, calling out in a sonorous voice. "The time has come!"
Voice almost a roar, Zorn completed the spell, his voice hoarse and painfully loud. "The time is NOW!"
Arms outstretched and body painfully taut, the two jesters stood, eyes closed and hands to the sky like two priests supplicating the heavens. A few seconds passed, the only sound the gentle whistling of wind deep in the caverns...
Thorn blinked softly, his hands falling from the sky as he paused, tilting his head with a confused jangle.... Zorn coughed nervously, his voice raw and hoarse as he stopped, hand rising to his chin in perturbed thought. Eyes narrowed in concentration, he stared at the girl, his face sour. "...That was odd."
Thorn nodded, looking down at the girl. "Odd, that was..." Numbly acknowledging his brother's statement, he glanced over at the other jester, confusion alight in his eyes. It had worked perfectly. What had gone wrong?
Inconceivable. Something had gone wrong- but where? Shaking his head, Zorn coughed angrily. "We failed again!"
Voice bitter, Thorn kicked the dust. "Again we have failed...."
Turning away with a growl, Zorn stared at the little girl as if she had just insulted him, and turned to his brother. Voice not unkind, he asked shortly, bluntly. "Did you make a mistake?" He certainly hadn't made a mistake, but what could've gone wrong?
Looking affronted, Thorn shook his head with a strident jangling sound. Having gone through a similar introspective himself not a moment ago, he stared at his 'brother' with a thoroughly confused look. "Make mistake, I did not!" Throwing up his hands helplessly, he offered the only solution he could come up with. "Yours, the mistake must be..." He offered an apologetic shrug.
Zorn shook his own head empathetically. "I made no mistake at all!" An irksome snarl on his face, he glared at the girl on the ground.
Getting a little annoyed himself, Thorn dug at the dust at his feet, his face sour. "The truth, do you speak?" He oozed skepticism, having been rather rankled at his normally at least somewhat caring companion's sudden harassment. Crossing his arms, he met his brother stare for stare.
Absorbed in their squabble, neither of them noticed the form slipping up behind them- "Of course I speak the truth!" Snapping the words out, Zorn hissed menacingly, his eyes narrowed as he slumped, teeth fixed as he locked eyes with his brother. Anger sang palpably between the two of them, almost visible in the air...
A kick found Thorn's side, tugging the air from his lungs as he crumpled to his side, eyes going half closed as he suddenly glanced upwards. Looking exasperated. Kuja aimed another kick at Zorn, who barely dodged. "Will you two just SHUT UP!?"
Throwing a half frightened, half-surly look to his brother, the blue clad jester slumped defiantly, his voice a growl. "I-It's his fault!" Whining like an irate child, Zorn turned his face away, refusing to meet his brother's gaze....
Hissing the words, Thorn mutters under his breath "H-His fault, it is..."
---
"Ye gods, they're acting like little kids..." 192 groaned out the astute observation, covering his face with an embarrassed hand.
---
Thorn turned to Zorn, pointing an irate finger. "The one who messed up is YOU!"
"YOU'RE the one who messed up!" Shaking a fist, Zorn stomped the ground, positively livid. A few moments more and the mad jester would be foaming at the mouth....
Slapping the hands down with a sharp, stinging gesture, Kuja turns to each jester in turn, half ducked and snarling. "I. Said. Shut. Up." Grabbing a handful of collar, he shook each jester once, menacingly. "I don't want to hear excuses..." voice calm and composed, he shot each of the two brothers a firm, harsh look.
Glancing down at the girl, he growls softly, pointing with a rigid finger. "I sense power from within her. Continue the extraction!"
Zorn turned to look at the girl, tugging fretfully on one bell.... She looked so sallow, flushed, half dead already. She was far too young. Any more of this and she wouldn't make it. Turning once again to the tall, pale man, he spoke softly, silently hoping and praying the inconsolable madman would listen. "Continuing further will endanger the subject's life!"
Bending to the girl, Thorn threw out a hand to her shoulder, muttering to their master hopelessly. "Only at the age of sixteen can Eidolons be extracted!"
Both winced, whimpering miserably as Kuja straightened, his face a mask of irate loathing. His voice came out a disgusted hiss. "You two just don't get it...."
Voice musing, he murmured to himself, staring down at the girl, "I need an Eidolon more powerful than Alexander... an Eidolon with the power to bury Garland.... His powers are incredible; I cannot even come close. I MUST destroy him before Terra's plan is activated, or my soul will no longer be my own!" Shaking himself from his momentary reverie, Kuja snaps out a finger, spearing straight at the girl and snarls viciously. "Who CARES if she lives?? I want that Eidolon!!"
Flashing one another one last, hopeless look, Zorn and Thorn sigh, more a whimper than a breath, and step forward.
A flash of creamy pink suddenly springs at the two, Thorn suddenly trapping his brother's neck in a stranglehold as they start back, nearly falling... and stare. Zorn tilts his head, curiously....
The odd little moogle stands fuming before them, between them and their goal, her little eyes beady and menacing. Almost laughing, Thorn straightens himself, looking over the obstructive, annoying little creature. The little thing bares it's- her, he notes with some amusement- teeth, spitting the word "Kupo!" The little wings flutter once.
Moving up beside his brother, Zorn tilts his head. "Where did that come from?"
Shrugging, Thorn turned to the thing. Making what he hoped were menacing motions with his hands, he waved at the thing a couple times. She didn't budge. A bit annoyed now, Thorn growled slightly "You, get out of our way!"
The little fuzzball just scrunched up her features into a rather startling snarl.
At a loss, the two jesters shot each other a long look, turning as one to call out in confusion- "Master!"
Turning with a growl, Kuja snaps out, impatient- "Well!?" His glance alights on the moogle, a look of incredulous annoyance flashing across his features....
"Kupo....!"
Pointing accusingly at it, Zorn growls. "Her pet moogle is interfering with the extraction process!"
The final link fell into place as Thorn scowled. "Certain are we that IT caused the failure!" The stupid thing had nearly ruined everything....
Tossing a hand in disinterest, Kuja spits forth the painfully obvious conclusion. "Kill the runt! We're running out of time!"
"Kupo....!"
Zorn and Thorn faced the little ball of fluff. Sighing softly, they gently slipped into the deep, hypnotic concentration of their spell casting, feeling the barriers between them begin to shift and melt, falling in on one another.... almost as if they were one.... Lifting their hands, they gently let out their held breaths in perfect synchronization.... and paused. What were they talking about....?
The girl and the moogle whispered softly to each other, the thrumming aura of the arcane rising to dangerous levels within the room.
----
"Wh-what's going on here?" Breathing softly, 69 shivered, eyes wide as he stared at the rising glow, feeling the magic lap and beat at him, almost painful...
56 just eased a hand to his shoulder, not having an answer.
----
Voices soft and tense, the two jesters whispered to each other, confused. "It's glowing."
"Glowing it is. But why? What's happening, wonder I do?"
"As do I.... but whatever it is.... I don't like it...."
The girl slipped to her feet weakly in the circle, and stopped. The two jesters stared, anxious, studying the suddenly aware girl.... and slowly raised their heads.
Frightened, the two tried to bluff themselves into bravery, their words harsh. "We will put you to death.- Put you to death we will." It didn't work. Starting to shake with the instinctive apprehension of the newly damned, the twin jesters shrank against each other, eyes wide.…
The.... The THING looked down at them. It looked... it looked like the demon god of moogles.... Like if a moogle was force fed liquid mist for about a week and sunk into the deepest dark rituals imaginable....
Thorn's hand silently slid into his brother's palm, squeezing once as the girl suddenly stiffened, raising her head to the sky, and screamed out two strange, simple words: "TERRA HOMING!!!"
---
Their hands were still together. Which was odd. Considering that each and every other attempt at movement turned out more of a convulsive twitch than the planned, graceful movements the two lithe jesters could normally pull off with so much grace and skill.... Thorn stared silently at the dust a quarter inch from his face, dully contemplating each individual crystalline fragment as it slowly soaked in the blood pouring steadily from the four or five rents torn in his body. He couldn't feel them. He couldn't feel anything. He couldn't even feel his own brother's hand in his grip, and he almost cried at that.... He couldn't squeeze his other's fingers, couldn't show him in the only way they had left that he was still there for him... Breathing was so hard....
So hard....
Letting his eyes close slowly, Thorn cursed softly, almost silently, his voice a bitter, breathy moan. Tools, they had been used as such. And now Kuja was throwing them away....
Thorn stared dully out into space, feeling the comforting warmth of his own flowing blood.... He didn't blame the girl. It wasn't her fault, she was just defending herself.... No, the thing that hurt worse than the seven broken ribs aching within him, slowly filling his lungs with blood was that they would die a failure.... Falling away from life with their last thoughts and feelings over Kuja's disappointment. Their own disappointment....
Thorn started to cry then, not because of anything else, but because, with the last bits of sensation in his twisted, broken hand, he could feel the iron hard fingers of his brother just beginning to go limp....
The boy. The boy was wandering closer. Unable to move, and now becoming unable to breathe, Thorn shook softly as he felt the boy chatter inanely to one of his companions, the girl.... Blood filled his mouth with a horrid taste, but he couldn't spit it out. Nothing was working anymore.... Nothing. Feeling his eyes dimming, Thorn twitched helplessly as the world began to recede, the harsh, clipped conversation falling into a grumbling mush in his ears....
The hand went limp. And he cried....
----
Words punched through the muddy treacle of his dimming consciousness, the harsh mocking tones he knew only too well....
"....moog-....int-....Tr-nce!?"
Too loud, he tried to call out to the rude, shouting person to be quiet. The only thing that came was a gout of blood falling from his mouth and nose.
"...erupt-....'nger.... n'duce compl-.... tr-ce...."
"N.........dsr........ngr......" A deep seated instinct to survive batted in terror at the approaching darkness, flailing at the curtains of night he could feel wrapping around him, strangling him.... couldn't breathe..... couldn't.....
He squeezed. A finger popped strangely, the spiral break shifting slightly in the numb flesh.... A gasp, long and very, very soft, more a mindless moan than an intellectual sound.
He tried spitting, but the blood filled his mouth, drowning his nose, filling his chest, pouring out.... So much blood.... All he could do was squeeze....
Harsh laughter then, coarse and mocking. His ribcage twitching feebly, Thorn tried to suck in a breath.... and let out a half fluttering wail as his cracked ribs flared to life. Shaking his head, he vomited blood, each movement an agony....
A pealing gasp came beside him as his brother's hand contorting wrongly in his too tight grip.
Sobbing softly, Thorn tried to breathe, his ribs heaving as he fought the panic and the numbness. Wanting the pain, the pain of life, Thorn pulled....
He couldn't get up. His arms were all funny, sort of longer, almost segmented, like a worm.... The bones sometimes poking through the bruised skin to show the neat new flexing points. He stared mindlessly at his now useless arms, wondering dully what the hell he was going to play tetra master with now.... The shock was coming back, and he couldn't seem to fight it....
"W-Wait a minute!" The mage boy. Nearly blind, Thorn blinked softly, feeling the tiny, scuffling footsteps come closer....
And then the blast hit.
Pain. And joy. A strange joy. An old joy.... One the two of them hadn't felt in a long, long time. He heard his brother gasp out as the wall that had been forced into their minds over eighty years ago crumpled down, the last raping vestiges of that.... that old man's control over them, vanished like mist in the sun....
The small plume of energy was all it took. It washed over them, sweet and stinging and sharp and beautifully agonizing, shocking their thrashed and mortally battered bodies the final surge of life....
Thorn didn't know how he did it; muscles torn and bones actively thrusting through the skin with ever movement, Thorn tensed himself.... and pulled. Sliding through the dirt with a small, almost swimming movement, he scuttled to his brother's side.... and stared softly.
Zorn's face was a mess, his eyes tightly closed and his face lacerated, almost puncturing one of his cheeks, the blood matting the thin, scraggly wisps of hair escaping from under his hat. Dirt caked the wound, dimming the blood. Zorn shifted slowly, turning to look into his brother's face, open eye glazed.... but he was grinning. Drawing himself closer, Thorn bent to his brother, easing himself down towards his other half, his soulmate, sighing as he sank to the dust. Raising himself with a shuddering, spastic movement, he hunched, half over Zorn's chest.... and smiled, letting his head sag to his brother's skin, hearing the weak pounding of his heart. He felt, in his broken, mangled hand, his brother's fingers leave his, one arm wrapping around him as he eased into position, slipping a hand behind his brother's back, apathetic at the grinding sounds emanating from his thrashed flesh.
It had always felt so strange, he reflected as he laid his head against the warmth of his brother's thin, corded neck, it had always felt so strange with two arms. He was only supposed to have one. It didn't feel right....
As his hand sank into his brother's back, he felt his lungs buck with a bloody outcry.... of longing realized, of a need fulfilled.... of joy. And then he was there, inside his mind, where he was supposed to be....
He felt Zorn's torn cheek, the numbness across the right side of his face.... prompting the flesh closed and the ache of his damaged eye to heal in it's socket, Thorngemini sighed softly, feeling the warmth of growth, the pain of birth, sweet and so dearly missed, break over him. Over them....
They had been so young then, and foolish. The pale, old one had looked so pathetically frail, laughable.... They had paid for their mistake in pain and blood, crying out. But death hadn't been their punishment for the brashness of youth.... That beast of a monster, clad in iron brown, that old, weathered man, had taken the only thing that had mattered to the young, gruesome monster away from them. Each other. It had taken a good three days for the minds to stabilize past the mindless howling stage. They had awakened to coldness and smallness, weak and empty.... and alone. A being that had never known isolation suddenly was plunged into it like a Vespal into boiling water. Christened Thorn, Left-gemini had nearly gone insane in the solitude, isolated from his other half, isolated from everyone, trying to ignore the obedience programming drilled into his skull....
Ninety years. Ninety years locked away within the prison of his own mind, a being separated, incomplete.... Thorngemini sobbed softly as he was rejoined, growing and joining, the presence within his mind soothing a piercing ache he had long ago forgot was there....
Garland had told them the pain would end, eventually. The sensations of agony, spiritual and physical, the raging loneliness, the perpetual manic depression, the nightmares.... He had told them that, over and over again. And it never had....
That man, that old weathered, pathetic man.... Ninety years, torn and violated, minds half-mad from pain and loss....
And now it was over.
Zorngemini smiled, feeling his lips pull slightly as they healed over, the fleshy crest atop his head going back briefly as he blinked away the last of the marring cataracts clouding his newly healed eye.... Stretching almost impossibly long, muscle-corded arms, they suddenly shivered, rising from the clogging dust, to meet the stares of those they had once known.
The funny little mages. Zorngemini smiled softly, feeling the warm comforting amiability of Left within his mind.... The merging wasn't all the way complete yet. Over eighty years of enforced individualism had to be battered down and that took a bit of work, and time. Two mouths twisted into a grin, a soft, wistful grin of the truly happy....
And then the clapping began. Striding softly forward, the pale man that had caused them so much pain suddenly was near them, reaching out to touch.... They moved aside with a menacing hiss, unwieldy looking bulk moving with deceptive agility.
"So this is the repulsive monstrosity Garland spoke of lassoing into slavery all those years ago. I had always heard him speak of a truly repugnant, loathsome creature he had managed to dupe and capture, but I had never in my life thought that the hideous beast he had caught had been you two pathetic losers.... How amusing."
The pale hand settled across Meltigemini's stomach, fingers lightly tracing against the mocha skin. Twin mouths cracking at the unpleasant, unwanted touch, Meltigemini ducked back, sliding across the dust and away, snarling as Kuja followed, apparently fascinated....
Voice ghastly and echoing from the two toothy mouths, Meltigemini gasped slightly, pulling away with a jerk. "Leave us alone Kuja. We are no longer your subservient little whipping boys any longer. We are home...."
Shaking his head with a smirk, Kuja just sighed, waving a finger at the wary, angry looking monstrosity with an admonishing wave. "Now now, think its that easy do you? Just break a few little strings and suddenly everything is better? Silly little freak, you should know better than that...."
Roaring in reverberating, twin voiced anger, Meltigemini howled, fists clenched and fleshy tassels flat to his necks. "WE ARE FREE OF YOU!!! FREE!! You will never hurt us agai- aah-AAAGH!!!"
Zornjemini suddenly arched, his eyes going very wide.... Blood sliding from Right's mouth in a sudden wet spasm, Meltigemini stood, utterly stunned, before slipping into a half turn, feverish eyes sliding behind them.
Zidane stood, a faint grin on his face and the knife in his hand wet and dripping.
The clanking armored one moved up beside him, growling disapprovingly. "Ignoble monkey. You shame your honor, striking while the beast's back is turned."
The blonde haired boy merely shrugged deferentially. "Hey, no honor among thieves, right Rusty? Besides, it's just one monster among many. Look at it!"
The armored man's eyes shone with disgust as he drew his sword, looking as if he didn't know who to be more repulsed by, Zidane's lack of chivalry or Meltigemini's appearance.
The stab wound in his side bubbled alarmingly with each breath. But, having pulled back from the utter brink of destruction once already today, Meltigemini just smiled softly, the warm nirvana of being together once again filling his soul with a confidence long since lost. Wary, he stared down at the two, watching the knight and monkey tailed boy joined by the princess. Staring at the gathering group with growing apprehension, Meltigemini wheezed, bleeding onto the dust.
"There is that one thing, my half melted jesters.... The illustrious good guys are here, and they don't look happy. Do try to put up a half decent fight, and try not to embarrass me too much when they finally cut your heads off.... Ta! I have other things to attend to...." Patting the blood wet shoulder, Kuja laughs softly, slipping across the dusty room and away....
~maybe we can talk talking is an option talking is not an option they already stabbed us in the back they see nothing but what their eyes can show them they will kill us if they can we have no other choice....~
Nodding grimly, the arms rose once again, hands grasping the sky as the power bubbled forth, of corruption and damage, of melting flesh and green death, foam spraying from the mouth as the body curled in on itself, blood turning black in the veins.... The Bio spell gathered, the hideous roiling green gas of toxins building to a stormy, almost frothy pitch in the two outstretched hands.... Raising its hands for the casting of the debilitating venom, Meltigemini let the fingers spread, death-wreathed hands glowing-
The wet, meaty sucking sound was strange to Thorngemini's ears as he suddenly felt a strange sensation. They had just been stabbed.... He should be feeling the pain. Glancing over with shock numbed surprise, he blinked, staring softly....
Zorngemini's head hung limp to his chest, blood pouring steadily from his lax mouth... A numbness washing over him, Thorngemini slowly glanced downwards....
Steiner looked malcontent with his current position, sword held at a lateral angle and buried to the hilt within the strange brownish gray meat that now seemed to be doing all it could to douse him in its foul smelling blood. He looked up, scowling at the dazed look, the sensations cut forever when his sword had met in that single unlucky instant and severed the spinal column just above the branch. Twisting the sword once to free it, he tugged, bathing his already less than spotless armor in the pinkish ichor. The eyes that met his....
Those alien eyes spoke with a loss so profound, so endless that he had to look away, the already slowly dying creature suddenly tugging itself off of his sword. One arm and head lay limp, hanging by the mutual flesh they shared.... Off balance and stumbling, the creature swayed, head falling to the side as it opened its mouth.... and howled.
A pitiful, heartbroken sound, the only remaining head screamed into the darkness, tottering weakly as it wailed like a lost child.
Zidane shook his head, sighing softly to himself as he hefted his blade....
"Demonslayer, don't fail me now." He dashed forward, launching into a run....
The blades opened his torso, spilling out his vitals to the ground. Thorngemini stared dully at his own loops of pale intestine almost tripping him up as he glanced at the gaping wound in his torso.... He didn't resist as he felt the shivering enchantment fall over him. The world grew as he shrank, sinking down to the size of a goblin.... Staring at the ground as the hanging, lifeless half of his brother held him down, he didn't move as he felt the knight, taking a moment to honor the beast a moment of recognition, of a warrior's mercy, he raised his sword once in acknowledgment.... before sweeping it to the side and through in one long, unbroken movement.
Thorngemini didn't mind this. When he had felt the right half of his body suddenly go numb, nothing had mattered.... A long healed scar in his mind had been filled, giving him the warmth and love, the connection, the unity that he had lost.... He welcomed the sword with silent tears as he felt it shear through his neck, his last thought filling his head as it became separated by the razor edged blade was a soft one, of a final realization.
~Zorn will be there. I'll never be alone again....~
*sniff..... sniff, sniff* Waah! *cries* I never thought that I'd fall in wuv with Zorn and Thorn! And then I had ta kill em! THAT was hard, though I am well known for torturing characters I like.... *blinks at the ghosts of Zorn and Thorn, currently glaring at me* WHAT?? It's cannon for Odd's sake! Shoo! *pulls out the Ghostbuster's backpack blasters and scowls* Bugger off you two! Or no humor fics for you! *they leave, grumbling* Well anyway, the great betrayal and consternation of all mages soon. I wonder if I should do a separate mini fic for 192.... *tilts head* If ya think so, call sad_mudokon@hotmail.com and bludgeon me for even doubting it! Heh, see you in chapter eight!
(Editted by Ivyna! ^_~)
Disclaim... well, this IS the seventh chapter in this story, so I really shouldn't have to tell you all that I don't own the rights to Final Fantasy IX, right? After all, if I did, I'd certainly be sitting back, sipping something heavily alcoholic and laughing my arse off, pointing at you and laughing in a Simpson-esque manner. So I don't own it, okay? Okay?? Rub it in why don't you!? Hurt my delicate feelings!! Why don't you steal 123 while you're at it?? Wait! Don't! Bring back my character! Waaah! *runs after them*
Well anyway, I don't own it. *sniff* So lets all just give a black mage a hug (except 192, hug him and you'll get a knee to the groin) and sit back. This installment in the tale of 123 is almost over, fancy that? Like I've been promising recently, new characters soon, new situations. Be patient ^_^ Oh, and if yer all curious, you could e-mail me at sad_mudokon@hotmail.com to find out what happened in 192's past. (though I'd advise serious consideration of whether or not you truly want to know ~_^)
I guess there's still a bit of programming left in us, after all. I certainly don't remember actually moving- not that I moved all that much. I didn't remember raising my arms, they were just in the air, hands outstretched and fingers tensed, almost painfully… and the echo of that word. Not Blizzard, Blizarra, or a dozen others I could have shouted… No, just that old, sad word. KILL. I heard it, from the mouths of my brothers, echoed a dozen times over. Time seemed to be standing still, or was that just the aftereffects of the dozen or so Slow and Stop spells that had suddenly slammed into that poor dragon? I mean, it WAS trying to eat 192, but that's still a bit of a harsh thing to do to a living thing…. No wonder everyone was afraid of the black mages. I can't say I'd blame them.
Time was moving astoundingly slow. I just stood there, watching calmly, almost curiously, as my spell hit. It wasn't an orthodox spell, I know- I shouldn't have used it, I didn't know what it would do. It was dangerous in theory, but as the few drops of blood hit me in the eye, I found it surprisingly effective. Gruesomely effective. Overall, I'd say the last thing the dragon had to worry about was a handful of chronology spells as my Monomolecular Wind Scythe sheared into- and then through- that thin, whip like neck. The dark, powerful muscles and shiny scales were suddenly obscured in a spray of blood as the thin line of air (carefully crafted with an intricate chain molecular wave propulsion system, devised by yours truly, at the head of which is a single molecular strand of time bonded air molecules, creating a razor edge which- oh shoot okay I'll leave it alone….) well, the thin line of air decapitated the poor beastie.
192 screamed like a little girl, curling into a tight, fetal ball as the jaws descended, pinning him to the wall. But the bite didn't come- just a wave of foul smelling, stinging blood that suddenly poured in a high pressure gout from the throat, soaking the traumatized 192 in the dark, acrid ichor. The jaws pinned him to the wall, muscles rigid with death as the body shook, the five or so feet of empty air between the head and neck illustrating the rather dead nature of the beast.
But there was that instinct again. As harshly decapitating as my blade spell was, I'm not even really sure I was the one who struck the deathblow. Almost directly behind mine, another wind scythe-esque blade, thicker and far more damaging, slashed through the neck, not severing the now hanging piece so much as shattering the flesh to a disgusting pulpy mess… A few inches behind that, a spell which, if I can pull it out of the throng sounded something along the lines of Razorsomethingorother Cyclone, suddenly plowed through the base of the throat, taking out a section a little thicker than my torso. I can only feel sympathy for the mages on the other side of that particular attack.
A dozen harsh scythes and blades of ice suddenly materialized, cutting deep and rending through the brilliant red scales, feathers cascading down in a wave from the stump of one wing, the mangled remains of the other… The last remnants of the Stop spells began to fade, the arcane alterations to the beasts body having been targeted at brutal and fatal key points, the last flutters of time magic fading in the chest, from where they had frozen heart and lungs. The body, more ground meat than thrashing dragon, suddenly tottered in the bright portal it was perched upon. The gruesome, headless beast, still spraying great gouts of stinking blood, reared up suddenly, whipping the blood hose of a neck around, as if it still had the ability to feel the mortal pain…. and slowly toppled, one wrecked wing pumping pathetically as, with a great groan of tearing splinters, the body fell back, spewing feathers and blood and was gone. The dust swirled back into the open hole, tinted gold in the faint half-light….
…Time snapped back with an almost painful recoil. Shaking helplessly, I could only stare, feeling the shock and the singing adrenaline begin to fade, the harsh smell of my blood flecked robes rising sickeningly…. It almost couldn't be real. I stared, utterly shocked, bloody and stinking, my arms still outstretched in an agonizing position. I- I hadn't even thought. I just…. and then they…. and the dragon, it was- it was…. My hands fell to my sides with a thump, fingers curling into my palms as I suddenly gritted my teeth, breath wheezing as I tried to avoid emptying whatever pitiful contents of my stomach I had onto the weathered floorboards…. 69 wasn't so lucky as he collapsed to hands and knees, retching miserably….
Moving as if in a dream, I turned my head, eyes wide….
192 stared, his eyes narrowed and his arms crossed, the finger length fangs pressed rather dangerously to the stomach of his coat, his face, hat and jacket soaked in dark, almost purplish blood. It dripped sullenly from his wilted hat as he leaned against the wall he was pinned to, his eyes a disturbing, unfamiliar reddish gold. He cleared his throat scratchily, spitting dark red onto the aged wood and snapped, "Would somebody PLEASE mind helping me with the rather large DRAGON'S JAWS locked around my stomach?? PLEASE!?" He thumps the side of the muzzle with a clenched hand, gesticulating in rage at the toothy vice pinning him back. "…Um… NOW??"
I shake my head with a snap, mind fuzzy, and slip forward in a rush, feeling strangely sleepy with shock. Face sheepish, I run my fingers over the fangs, grasping right behind one of the lower canines where the tooth isn't that sharp, and pull as hard as I can. The head barely even wobbled. Another tug…. 56 moves up behind me, his eyes troubled as he grabs the lip between upper and lower jaw, scrambling to pull…. A type C on the other side begins chipping at the stone around the front of the jaw, levering the head away.
It takes about ten of us to pull the head away, still slick and stinking, and toss the icky thing aside. My gloves are soaked and slimy, smelling of half rotten catfish…. Ugh. Shaking my fingers, I glance up to 192, his eyes narrowed in despondent revulsion as the blood courses down his neck, his coat thick and heavy with the horrid stuff…. Sighing, he wrings the edge of his coat out with a splatter of blood, the gesture utterly pointless on the sodden cloth. His voice is droll. "Well, wasn't that an interesting little diversion? I feel right cheerful now, right fucking exultant! Oh yeah, today is truly turning into an uplifting day." Sputtering dragon's blood, 192 slips the hat from his blood slicked head, shaking it several times, and glances up, eyes thin brown slits at the sound of soft, droll applause.
Kuja smirked softly, clapping with a limp wristed lethargy, his eyes cool as he approached the group of sodden mages. Smiling softly, he bent a little, staring into 192's eyes. His voice is soft and amused, tone gentle. "Well now. That was certainly a heartening sight. Glad to know you little guys haven't really degenerated into tree hugging hippies like I had feared…." Gently readjusting 192's dripping collar with a pale alabaster hand, Kuja smirks, straightening the cloth and meeting the revolted, loathing gaze of the now utterly shivering mage in his grip.
Every muscle in 192's body seemed ready to snap, a definite tick in his left cheek and his black on black teeth bared as he stood there, locked in the gentle touch of the pale man before him…. Eyes narrowed and breath seething in his throat, 192 stared at a small, unremarkable point somewhere to the right of Kuja's face, his expression tight, halfway between deadpan and the most fearsome of ferals. Kuja just laughed, readjusting the collar and straightened, cleaning his fingers on the back of my coat as he walked past.
"Had enough fun for today little ones? We have so much to do, oh yes…. Mustn't dally now, move smartly gents…. We have quite a ways to go…."
---
"I'm going to smack him one day. I really am..." Muttering as he walked, 192 clenched his fist... His voice seemed a little less livid then normal, and his eyes were dull. A bit of his fire seemed to have gone out, and it was odd seeing him this way. We were going downwards, walking a narrow spiral over a deep, flat-bottomed pit... I glanced behind me, curiously, looking towards the back of the line. If all the mages seemed to be high strung, tense and worried, it didn't compare at all to Zorn and Thorn. Nobody was looking at them, all eyes either turned towards the front, towards the ground directly in front of each black mage's cloth covered, shuffling feet- or down into the gloomy depths of the pit.
They looked really depressed, each movement slow and tense, as if it caused them pain. Zorn's eyes were fixed straight forward, locked on the back of the mage before him, his expression stormy, surly and tense. Each step was hampered, shuffling, and long as he struggled, shooting a perturbed glare to his brother, who had his face pressed into Zorn's shoulder. He wasn't so much walking as dangling from his other's shoulders, arms locked around his chest... Every few steps, Zorn would pause, trying with straining fingers and an irate growl to shake his 'brother' from his torso. Actions halfhearted, in resignation as he pulled the other red hued jester behind him, his face a fierce scowl. 44 occasionally turned to look, face confused. He usually received a growl for his efforts...
My feet ached. I had always enjoyed walks out in the forest, strolling through the sylvan, sublime beauty of the sun dappled trees, the gentle green moss, the waving plant life around me, subtly singing... But, as I trudged through the newest drift of dust, this was as far from a pleasant walk as one could imagine without throwing in elements like pools of lava or acid rain.
"And so we are here! Rejoice!" Tossing up his hands in a theatrical wave, Kuja broke through the opening, his face ecstatic and his steps light. We filed into the area apprehensively, faces etched with troubled grimaces and eyes wide.
I slipped into the area, letting a soiled glove trail over the rough, slate gray wall. 69 shuffled in beside me, his neck craning to stare up into the gloom looming above us. I blinked softly, following his gaze into the flue of empty darkness above us all...
"Fuckin'ell- move you sodding jerk!" Hands found my back, nearly sending me sprawling from 192's rough, callous shove. 56 squeaked as I slammed into him, arms involuntarily wrapping around his waist as I fell against him, the plush A stumbling with a wild windmilling of his arms. 69 yelped as a flailing hand found him, ducking back with a stinging face- 192, scowling at the lot of us, pushed forward, nudging aside a much larger C with a growl and slipping to the front of the group. Rankled, I followed him, followed closely by 56 and a wincing 69, the mage rubbing tenderly at his cheek.
Kuja... he looked majestic, poised and sure, as he stared at the small, unremarkable space like it was holy ground. His face positively shown, grinning with a luminous radiance. 44 approached meekly at the curt snap, his movements kindly and gentle as he slipped forward, plush arms cupping the little, horn crowned girl to his chest. Gently smoothing back a strand of bluish violet hair, he crooned hopelessly, laying her softly down upon the hard floor.
192 tensed, his fists tight. Wincing back with a meek whimper, 44 ducked back as Kuja snapped out with a tight backhand, slapping the large A away from the girl between them. 44 retreated, hugging himself as he slipped to the back of the group, his posture slumped and miserable. I couldn't help but stare at him sorrowfully as he slid past, staring into those misery- choked eyes....
Kuja's hands were soft, sliding through the purple bangs, tracing softly around the base of the horn with slow, rhythmic movements, Kuja crouched, unmoving, his face intent and pensive.... Not looking up, he suddenly smiled, his voice low.
"Zoooorn... Thoooorn.... Come here, my useless little freaks.... I have need of you."
Face ugly with apprehension, Zorn slipped forward, one hand protectively thrown across his other's chest. Thorn stared, hunched slightly as he moved up beside his brother, hand briefly entwining his blue clad other's own....
"You called, Master Kuja?"
"A need of us you have?"
His hand gently rising, Kuja beckoned the pair with a languid gesture, indicating them closer... Shooting each other an apprehensive look, the two jesters slid forward cautiously, eyes intent on their master... Thorn, eyes wincing closed, suddenly fell to his knees with a thick crunch as the pale fingers wound in his collar, tugging him forward with a snap-
"Eidolons. Extraction. Now."
Stammering as he adjusted his hat, the red clad jester blinked miserably, staring fearfully at the pale effigy before him. Zorn coughed softly, nervously. "But Master Kuja- sh-she is only six years old! A safe Eidolon extraction won't be able to be performed on the child for another ten years!" Sweat running from under his jester's cap, Zorn ducked back from the look his master shot him. Thorn gagged as the collar of cloth tightened at his throat.
"Eidolons-"
"But- but Master Kuja-"
"Extraction-"
"Bring harm to the poor child you will, Master Kuja!"
"~NOW~"
Thorn shook as his blue brother picked him from the pale man's grip with a submissive nod, hat jangling. "As you wish, my Master..." Whisper hoarse and comforting, Zorn led his shaking brother to the center of the room, Thorn's hand weak as he massaged some life back into the thin, wrinkled skin at his throat. Zorn shot the pale man a long, troubled look before the two began to move into positions, muttering softly beneath their breath...
Surveying his upcoming handiwork, Kuja stood, hands on his hips and a smile across his painted face.
"Great perverted Gods, Kuja, what the hell are you going to do to the poor kid?!" Snarling beside me, 192 stepped out, eyes narrowed on the back of the man before him... and stopped. Back tense and eyes wary, he watched the effeminate albino sorcerer turn.... and shrank away with an involuntary whimper.
Kuja did not look happy. As one would remember a small, misbehaving dog they had forgotten was there, Kuja looked down at the slighter mage, his expression disparaging. His voice came out a jaded hiss. "Still your tongue dog, lest you be silenced like one...."
I was staring right at 192 when the words hit, watched him turn gray.... One shaking hand rising to his throat, the normally brash, grumpy type B suddenly stilled, his eyes wide... I blinked, watching the liquid silver slide down his face as the other mage, normally so strong and so very unpleasant, suddenly whimpered softly and crept to the back of the crowd. 44 blinked in surprise as the touch-wary 192 suddenly buried his face in the big mage's shoulder and didn't make a sound. Hands awkward, he patted the other's shoulder, looking at his brothers with a confused supplication for help...
Kuja's eyes were on us, sliding over us, his face a mask of gentle amusement. And somehow that small musing grin was worse than a thousand stormy expressions.... Gently moving forward, Kuja crooned softly, herding the forefront mages before him with small shooing motions of his hands. "Come on now silly little mages. Let the Jester Twins work..."
We moved away from him, slipping back the way we had come and into a small alcove, half spilled out behind him and eyes wide. Packed tightly, I gently leaned against 56's side as the A moved in ahead of me, watching over his shoulder as he reached behind him, patting my hip in a comforting manner. I silently laid my hand over his, squeezing....
---
Lying in the intricate circle carved in the dust, the small child lay as one dead, her perfect porcelain face composed in a faint pout of worry, even in sleep. Limbs limp, she slept softly, breath slow and unnaturally shallow....
Zorn and Thorn stood unmoving, staring down at the pale faced child. Running a hand over the back of his neck, Thorn stared, at a total loss. Zorn growled, shaking his head in a jingling cacophony of bells, his expression sour and resigned. Nodding to the nervous red and white clothed harlequin, Zorn rubbed his hands together, shook the sleeves from his wrists, and sighed. Clearing his throat, Zorn coughed once, bitterly, and drew a deep, fluttering breath.
"Eidolons of eternal life!" Voice resounding and strong, Zorn called out the words in a clear, surprising tenor, his eyes closing as he raised his hands to the darkness above him.
Frightened to fall out of synch, Thorn drew a deep breath and called out, his voice firm and a half octave higher than his brother's.... "Eidolons of infinite power!" Chiming in with perfect timing, Thorn called out, continuing the spell.... Switching spots with a wild gymnastic turning half cartwheel, the two jesters moved in perfect synchronization, slamming into the dust with a precision that would make an Olympic athlete feel stupid and clumsy.
Straightening with a harsh crackling of his back, Zorn closed his eyes, singing the spell in firm, forceful tones. "Arise from thy eternal slumber!"
Thorn called out a beat after his twin, his voice free of the confusing mismatched grammar and backward speech. Following the simple rhythm of the spell, he matched the cadence word for word, slipping into the meditative half hypnotism of the spell, reciting each part perfectly. "Depart after thy endless wait!"
Zorn called out, surrendering to the spell. "Let there be light!"
Eyes glazed, Thorn sang the words out, echoing across the stone. "Let there be life!"
Almost falling out of synch, the two jesters paused as the form within the circle suddenly twitched.... and rose in a cloud of dust and disturbing, flashing sparkles cascading down from her faint, slight body. Shaking his head, Zorn began the wild, capricious dance once again, his eyes closed in concentration as he stilled, calling out in a sonorous voice. "The time has come!"
Voice almost a roar, Zorn completed the spell, his voice hoarse and painfully loud. "The time is NOW!"
Arms outstretched and body painfully taut, the two jesters stood, eyes closed and hands to the sky like two priests supplicating the heavens. A few seconds passed, the only sound the gentle whistling of wind deep in the caverns...
Thorn blinked softly, his hands falling from the sky as he paused, tilting his head with a confused jangle.... Zorn coughed nervously, his voice raw and hoarse as he stopped, hand rising to his chin in perturbed thought. Eyes narrowed in concentration, he stared at the girl, his face sour. "...That was odd."
Thorn nodded, looking down at the girl. "Odd, that was..." Numbly acknowledging his brother's statement, he glanced over at the other jester, confusion alight in his eyes. It had worked perfectly. What had gone wrong?
Inconceivable. Something had gone wrong- but where? Shaking his head, Zorn coughed angrily. "We failed again!"
Voice bitter, Thorn kicked the dust. "Again we have failed...."
Turning away with a growl, Zorn stared at the little girl as if she had just insulted him, and turned to his brother. Voice not unkind, he asked shortly, bluntly. "Did you make a mistake?" He certainly hadn't made a mistake, but what could've gone wrong?
Looking affronted, Thorn shook his head with a strident jangling sound. Having gone through a similar introspective himself not a moment ago, he stared at his 'brother' with a thoroughly confused look. "Make mistake, I did not!" Throwing up his hands helplessly, he offered the only solution he could come up with. "Yours, the mistake must be..." He offered an apologetic shrug.
Zorn shook his own head empathetically. "I made no mistake at all!" An irksome snarl on his face, he glared at the girl on the ground.
Getting a little annoyed himself, Thorn dug at the dust at his feet, his face sour. "The truth, do you speak?" He oozed skepticism, having been rather rankled at his normally at least somewhat caring companion's sudden harassment. Crossing his arms, he met his brother stare for stare.
Absorbed in their squabble, neither of them noticed the form slipping up behind them- "Of course I speak the truth!" Snapping the words out, Zorn hissed menacingly, his eyes narrowed as he slumped, teeth fixed as he locked eyes with his brother. Anger sang palpably between the two of them, almost visible in the air...
A kick found Thorn's side, tugging the air from his lungs as he crumpled to his side, eyes going half closed as he suddenly glanced upwards. Looking exasperated. Kuja aimed another kick at Zorn, who barely dodged. "Will you two just SHUT UP!?"
Throwing a half frightened, half-surly look to his brother, the blue clad jester slumped defiantly, his voice a growl. "I-It's his fault!" Whining like an irate child, Zorn turned his face away, refusing to meet his brother's gaze....
Hissing the words, Thorn mutters under his breath "H-His fault, it is..."
---
"Ye gods, they're acting like little kids..." 192 groaned out the astute observation, covering his face with an embarrassed hand.
---
Thorn turned to Zorn, pointing an irate finger. "The one who messed up is YOU!"
"YOU'RE the one who messed up!" Shaking a fist, Zorn stomped the ground, positively livid. A few moments more and the mad jester would be foaming at the mouth....
Slapping the hands down with a sharp, stinging gesture, Kuja turns to each jester in turn, half ducked and snarling. "I. Said. Shut. Up." Grabbing a handful of collar, he shook each jester once, menacingly. "I don't want to hear excuses..." voice calm and composed, he shot each of the two brothers a firm, harsh look.
Glancing down at the girl, he growls softly, pointing with a rigid finger. "I sense power from within her. Continue the extraction!"
Zorn turned to look at the girl, tugging fretfully on one bell.... She looked so sallow, flushed, half dead already. She was far too young. Any more of this and she wouldn't make it. Turning once again to the tall, pale man, he spoke softly, silently hoping and praying the inconsolable madman would listen. "Continuing further will endanger the subject's life!"
Bending to the girl, Thorn threw out a hand to her shoulder, muttering to their master hopelessly. "Only at the age of sixteen can Eidolons be extracted!"
Both winced, whimpering miserably as Kuja straightened, his face a mask of irate loathing. His voice came out a disgusted hiss. "You two just don't get it...."
Voice musing, he murmured to himself, staring down at the girl, "I need an Eidolon more powerful than Alexander... an Eidolon with the power to bury Garland.... His powers are incredible; I cannot even come close. I MUST destroy him before Terra's plan is activated, or my soul will no longer be my own!" Shaking himself from his momentary reverie, Kuja snaps out a finger, spearing straight at the girl and snarls viciously. "Who CARES if she lives?? I want that Eidolon!!"
Flashing one another one last, hopeless look, Zorn and Thorn sigh, more a whimper than a breath, and step forward.
A flash of creamy pink suddenly springs at the two, Thorn suddenly trapping his brother's neck in a stranglehold as they start back, nearly falling... and stare. Zorn tilts his head, curiously....
The odd little moogle stands fuming before them, between them and their goal, her little eyes beady and menacing. Almost laughing, Thorn straightens himself, looking over the obstructive, annoying little creature. The little thing bares it's- her, he notes with some amusement- teeth, spitting the word "Kupo!" The little wings flutter once.
Moving up beside his brother, Zorn tilts his head. "Where did that come from?"
Shrugging, Thorn turned to the thing. Making what he hoped were menacing motions with his hands, he waved at the thing a couple times. She didn't budge. A bit annoyed now, Thorn growled slightly "You, get out of our way!"
The little fuzzball just scrunched up her features into a rather startling snarl.
At a loss, the two jesters shot each other a long look, turning as one to call out in confusion- "Master!"
Turning with a growl, Kuja snaps out, impatient- "Well!?" His glance alights on the moogle, a look of incredulous annoyance flashing across his features....
"Kupo....!"
Pointing accusingly at it, Zorn growls. "Her pet moogle is interfering with the extraction process!"
The final link fell into place as Thorn scowled. "Certain are we that IT caused the failure!" The stupid thing had nearly ruined everything....
Tossing a hand in disinterest, Kuja spits forth the painfully obvious conclusion. "Kill the runt! We're running out of time!"
"Kupo....!"
Zorn and Thorn faced the little ball of fluff. Sighing softly, they gently slipped into the deep, hypnotic concentration of their spell casting, feeling the barriers between them begin to shift and melt, falling in on one another.... almost as if they were one.... Lifting their hands, they gently let out their held breaths in perfect synchronization.... and paused. What were they talking about....?
The girl and the moogle whispered softly to each other, the thrumming aura of the arcane rising to dangerous levels within the room.
----
"Wh-what's going on here?" Breathing softly, 69 shivered, eyes wide as he stared at the rising glow, feeling the magic lap and beat at him, almost painful...
56 just eased a hand to his shoulder, not having an answer.
----
Voices soft and tense, the two jesters whispered to each other, confused. "It's glowing."
"Glowing it is. But why? What's happening, wonder I do?"
"As do I.... but whatever it is.... I don't like it...."
The girl slipped to her feet weakly in the circle, and stopped. The two jesters stared, anxious, studying the suddenly aware girl.... and slowly raised their heads.
Frightened, the two tried to bluff themselves into bravery, their words harsh. "We will put you to death.- Put you to death we will." It didn't work. Starting to shake with the instinctive apprehension of the newly damned, the twin jesters shrank against each other, eyes wide.…
The.... The THING looked down at them. It looked... it looked like the demon god of moogles.... Like if a moogle was force fed liquid mist for about a week and sunk into the deepest dark rituals imaginable....
Thorn's hand silently slid into his brother's palm, squeezing once as the girl suddenly stiffened, raising her head to the sky, and screamed out two strange, simple words: "TERRA HOMING!!!"
---
Their hands were still together. Which was odd. Considering that each and every other attempt at movement turned out more of a convulsive twitch than the planned, graceful movements the two lithe jesters could normally pull off with so much grace and skill.... Thorn stared silently at the dust a quarter inch from his face, dully contemplating each individual crystalline fragment as it slowly soaked in the blood pouring steadily from the four or five rents torn in his body. He couldn't feel them. He couldn't feel anything. He couldn't even feel his own brother's hand in his grip, and he almost cried at that.... He couldn't squeeze his other's fingers, couldn't show him in the only way they had left that he was still there for him... Breathing was so hard....
So hard....
Letting his eyes close slowly, Thorn cursed softly, almost silently, his voice a bitter, breathy moan. Tools, they had been used as such. And now Kuja was throwing them away....
Thorn stared dully out into space, feeling the comforting warmth of his own flowing blood.... He didn't blame the girl. It wasn't her fault, she was just defending herself.... No, the thing that hurt worse than the seven broken ribs aching within him, slowly filling his lungs with blood was that they would die a failure.... Falling away from life with their last thoughts and feelings over Kuja's disappointment. Their own disappointment....
Thorn started to cry then, not because of anything else, but because, with the last bits of sensation in his twisted, broken hand, he could feel the iron hard fingers of his brother just beginning to go limp....
The boy. The boy was wandering closer. Unable to move, and now becoming unable to breathe, Thorn shook softly as he felt the boy chatter inanely to one of his companions, the girl.... Blood filled his mouth with a horrid taste, but he couldn't spit it out. Nothing was working anymore.... Nothing. Feeling his eyes dimming, Thorn twitched helplessly as the world began to recede, the harsh, clipped conversation falling into a grumbling mush in his ears....
The hand went limp. And he cried....
----
Words punched through the muddy treacle of his dimming consciousness, the harsh mocking tones he knew only too well....
"....moog-....int-....Tr-nce!?"
Too loud, he tried to call out to the rude, shouting person to be quiet. The only thing that came was a gout of blood falling from his mouth and nose.
"...erupt-....'nger.... n'duce compl-.... tr-ce...."
"N.........dsr........ngr......" A deep seated instinct to survive batted in terror at the approaching darkness, flailing at the curtains of night he could feel wrapping around him, strangling him.... couldn't breathe..... couldn't.....
He squeezed. A finger popped strangely, the spiral break shifting slightly in the numb flesh.... A gasp, long and very, very soft, more a mindless moan than an intellectual sound.
He tried spitting, but the blood filled his mouth, drowning his nose, filling his chest, pouring out.... So much blood.... All he could do was squeeze....
Harsh laughter then, coarse and mocking. His ribcage twitching feebly, Thorn tried to suck in a breath.... and let out a half fluttering wail as his cracked ribs flared to life. Shaking his head, he vomited blood, each movement an agony....
A pealing gasp came beside him as his brother's hand contorting wrongly in his too tight grip.
Sobbing softly, Thorn tried to breathe, his ribs heaving as he fought the panic and the numbness. Wanting the pain, the pain of life, Thorn pulled....
He couldn't get up. His arms were all funny, sort of longer, almost segmented, like a worm.... The bones sometimes poking through the bruised skin to show the neat new flexing points. He stared mindlessly at his now useless arms, wondering dully what the hell he was going to play tetra master with now.... The shock was coming back, and he couldn't seem to fight it....
"W-Wait a minute!" The mage boy. Nearly blind, Thorn blinked softly, feeling the tiny, scuffling footsteps come closer....
And then the blast hit.
Pain. And joy. A strange joy. An old joy.... One the two of them hadn't felt in a long, long time. He heard his brother gasp out as the wall that had been forced into their minds over eighty years ago crumpled down, the last raping vestiges of that.... that old man's control over them, vanished like mist in the sun....
The small plume of energy was all it took. It washed over them, sweet and stinging and sharp and beautifully agonizing, shocking their thrashed and mortally battered bodies the final surge of life....
Thorn didn't know how he did it; muscles torn and bones actively thrusting through the skin with ever movement, Thorn tensed himself.... and pulled. Sliding through the dirt with a small, almost swimming movement, he scuttled to his brother's side.... and stared softly.
Zorn's face was a mess, his eyes tightly closed and his face lacerated, almost puncturing one of his cheeks, the blood matting the thin, scraggly wisps of hair escaping from under his hat. Dirt caked the wound, dimming the blood. Zorn shifted slowly, turning to look into his brother's face, open eye glazed.... but he was grinning. Drawing himself closer, Thorn bent to his brother, easing himself down towards his other half, his soulmate, sighing as he sank to the dust. Raising himself with a shuddering, spastic movement, he hunched, half over Zorn's chest.... and smiled, letting his head sag to his brother's skin, hearing the weak pounding of his heart. He felt, in his broken, mangled hand, his brother's fingers leave his, one arm wrapping around him as he eased into position, slipping a hand behind his brother's back, apathetic at the grinding sounds emanating from his thrashed flesh.
It had always felt so strange, he reflected as he laid his head against the warmth of his brother's thin, corded neck, it had always felt so strange with two arms. He was only supposed to have one. It didn't feel right....
As his hand sank into his brother's back, he felt his lungs buck with a bloody outcry.... of longing realized, of a need fulfilled.... of joy. And then he was there, inside his mind, where he was supposed to be....
He felt Zorn's torn cheek, the numbness across the right side of his face.... prompting the flesh closed and the ache of his damaged eye to heal in it's socket, Thorngemini sighed softly, feeling the warmth of growth, the pain of birth, sweet and so dearly missed, break over him. Over them....
They had been so young then, and foolish. The pale, old one had looked so pathetically frail, laughable.... They had paid for their mistake in pain and blood, crying out. But death hadn't been their punishment for the brashness of youth.... That beast of a monster, clad in iron brown, that old, weathered man, had taken the only thing that had mattered to the young, gruesome monster away from them. Each other. It had taken a good three days for the minds to stabilize past the mindless howling stage. They had awakened to coldness and smallness, weak and empty.... and alone. A being that had never known isolation suddenly was plunged into it like a Vespal into boiling water. Christened Thorn, Left-gemini had nearly gone insane in the solitude, isolated from his other half, isolated from everyone, trying to ignore the obedience programming drilled into his skull....
Ninety years. Ninety years locked away within the prison of his own mind, a being separated, incomplete.... Thorngemini sobbed softly as he was rejoined, growing and joining, the presence within his mind soothing a piercing ache he had long ago forgot was there....
Garland had told them the pain would end, eventually. The sensations of agony, spiritual and physical, the raging loneliness, the perpetual manic depression, the nightmares.... He had told them that, over and over again. And it never had....
That man, that old weathered, pathetic man.... Ninety years, torn and violated, minds half-mad from pain and loss....
And now it was over.
Zorngemini smiled, feeling his lips pull slightly as they healed over, the fleshy crest atop his head going back briefly as he blinked away the last of the marring cataracts clouding his newly healed eye.... Stretching almost impossibly long, muscle-corded arms, they suddenly shivered, rising from the clogging dust, to meet the stares of those they had once known.
The funny little mages. Zorngemini smiled softly, feeling the warm comforting amiability of Left within his mind.... The merging wasn't all the way complete yet. Over eighty years of enforced individualism had to be battered down and that took a bit of work, and time. Two mouths twisted into a grin, a soft, wistful grin of the truly happy....
And then the clapping began. Striding softly forward, the pale man that had caused them so much pain suddenly was near them, reaching out to touch.... They moved aside with a menacing hiss, unwieldy looking bulk moving with deceptive agility.
"So this is the repulsive monstrosity Garland spoke of lassoing into slavery all those years ago. I had always heard him speak of a truly repugnant, loathsome creature he had managed to dupe and capture, but I had never in my life thought that the hideous beast he had caught had been you two pathetic losers.... How amusing."
The pale hand settled across Meltigemini's stomach, fingers lightly tracing against the mocha skin. Twin mouths cracking at the unpleasant, unwanted touch, Meltigemini ducked back, sliding across the dust and away, snarling as Kuja followed, apparently fascinated....
Voice ghastly and echoing from the two toothy mouths, Meltigemini gasped slightly, pulling away with a jerk. "Leave us alone Kuja. We are no longer your subservient little whipping boys any longer. We are home...."
Shaking his head with a smirk, Kuja just sighed, waving a finger at the wary, angry looking monstrosity with an admonishing wave. "Now now, think its that easy do you? Just break a few little strings and suddenly everything is better? Silly little freak, you should know better than that...."
Roaring in reverberating, twin voiced anger, Meltigemini howled, fists clenched and fleshy tassels flat to his necks. "WE ARE FREE OF YOU!!! FREE!! You will never hurt us agai- aah-AAAGH!!!"
Zornjemini suddenly arched, his eyes going very wide.... Blood sliding from Right's mouth in a sudden wet spasm, Meltigemini stood, utterly stunned, before slipping into a half turn, feverish eyes sliding behind them.
Zidane stood, a faint grin on his face and the knife in his hand wet and dripping.
The clanking armored one moved up beside him, growling disapprovingly. "Ignoble monkey. You shame your honor, striking while the beast's back is turned."
The blonde haired boy merely shrugged deferentially. "Hey, no honor among thieves, right Rusty? Besides, it's just one monster among many. Look at it!"
The armored man's eyes shone with disgust as he drew his sword, looking as if he didn't know who to be more repulsed by, Zidane's lack of chivalry or Meltigemini's appearance.
The stab wound in his side bubbled alarmingly with each breath. But, having pulled back from the utter brink of destruction once already today, Meltigemini just smiled softly, the warm nirvana of being together once again filling his soul with a confidence long since lost. Wary, he stared down at the two, watching the knight and monkey tailed boy joined by the princess. Staring at the gathering group with growing apprehension, Meltigemini wheezed, bleeding onto the dust.
"There is that one thing, my half melted jesters.... The illustrious good guys are here, and they don't look happy. Do try to put up a half decent fight, and try not to embarrass me too much when they finally cut your heads off.... Ta! I have other things to attend to...." Patting the blood wet shoulder, Kuja laughs softly, slipping across the dusty room and away....
~maybe we can talk talking is an option talking is not an option they already stabbed us in the back they see nothing but what their eyes can show them they will kill us if they can we have no other choice....~
Nodding grimly, the arms rose once again, hands grasping the sky as the power bubbled forth, of corruption and damage, of melting flesh and green death, foam spraying from the mouth as the body curled in on itself, blood turning black in the veins.... The Bio spell gathered, the hideous roiling green gas of toxins building to a stormy, almost frothy pitch in the two outstretched hands.... Raising its hands for the casting of the debilitating venom, Meltigemini let the fingers spread, death-wreathed hands glowing-
The wet, meaty sucking sound was strange to Thorngemini's ears as he suddenly felt a strange sensation. They had just been stabbed.... He should be feeling the pain. Glancing over with shock numbed surprise, he blinked, staring softly....
Zorngemini's head hung limp to his chest, blood pouring steadily from his lax mouth... A numbness washing over him, Thorngemini slowly glanced downwards....
Steiner looked malcontent with his current position, sword held at a lateral angle and buried to the hilt within the strange brownish gray meat that now seemed to be doing all it could to douse him in its foul smelling blood. He looked up, scowling at the dazed look, the sensations cut forever when his sword had met in that single unlucky instant and severed the spinal column just above the branch. Twisting the sword once to free it, he tugged, bathing his already less than spotless armor in the pinkish ichor. The eyes that met his....
Those alien eyes spoke with a loss so profound, so endless that he had to look away, the already slowly dying creature suddenly tugging itself off of his sword. One arm and head lay limp, hanging by the mutual flesh they shared.... Off balance and stumbling, the creature swayed, head falling to the side as it opened its mouth.... and howled.
A pitiful, heartbroken sound, the only remaining head screamed into the darkness, tottering weakly as it wailed like a lost child.
Zidane shook his head, sighing softly to himself as he hefted his blade....
"Demonslayer, don't fail me now." He dashed forward, launching into a run....
The blades opened his torso, spilling out his vitals to the ground. Thorngemini stared dully at his own loops of pale intestine almost tripping him up as he glanced at the gaping wound in his torso.... He didn't resist as he felt the shivering enchantment fall over him. The world grew as he shrank, sinking down to the size of a goblin.... Staring at the ground as the hanging, lifeless half of his brother held him down, he didn't move as he felt the knight, taking a moment to honor the beast a moment of recognition, of a warrior's mercy, he raised his sword once in acknowledgment.... before sweeping it to the side and through in one long, unbroken movement.
Thorngemini didn't mind this. When he had felt the right half of his body suddenly go numb, nothing had mattered.... A long healed scar in his mind had been filled, giving him the warmth and love, the connection, the unity that he had lost.... He welcomed the sword with silent tears as he felt it shear through his neck, his last thought filling his head as it became separated by the razor edged blade was a soft one, of a final realization.
~Zorn will be there. I'll never be alone again....~
*sniff..... sniff, sniff* Waah! *cries* I never thought that I'd fall in wuv with Zorn and Thorn! And then I had ta kill em! THAT was hard, though I am well known for torturing characters I like.... *blinks at the ghosts of Zorn and Thorn, currently glaring at me* WHAT?? It's cannon for Odd's sake! Shoo! *pulls out the Ghostbuster's backpack blasters and scowls* Bugger off you two! Or no humor fics for you! *they leave, grumbling* Well anyway, the great betrayal and consternation of all mages soon. I wonder if I should do a separate mini fic for 192.... *tilts head* If ya think so, call sad_mudokon@hotmail.com and bludgeon me for even doubting it! Heh, see you in chapter eight!
