The thieves roared in a battle-lust cry after the leader nodded his head
with a jerky, self-filled gesture at the armored woman and the wounded
assassin, the former laughing so hard it was surprising she didn't kill
herself there and then with hemorrhaging in her lungs.
Shadow glanced at her. If he just met her at the exact second, he would have thought her as insane. But from what he saw in the last three minutes, he knew otherwise just by the look in her eyes. It was no where near Kefka's. And what he saw other than that stunned him. And for once, he could admit that.
He was expecting death for the final goddamned time. His actual demise, like so many times before. Yet it evaded him once again- or more or less he did. He ran from the reaper even when he wasn't doing a thing about it. Not a Goddamned thing.
And she revived him. He did not know her. Never saw her in his life. Yet he almost did. *Almost did.*
She almost looked like Realm years into the future.
It was with the features of her face- the large, watchful eyes and somehow fragile yet wide jaws. If her eyes were the intense green as they were the intense blue, he would have made the effort to ask who she exactly was. Yet he knew it wasn't Realm, and quickly dismissed the notion. It took a while to notice, but this girl was at least five years older than what he thought at first- maybe a few years younger than Terra. That and she had the pale skin and hair of Setzer. Yet, like Celes, didn't have his pasty look that in Shadow's opinion, looked ill. She wore armor like Cyan, having the heavy Doman structure and plating. Yet it seemed far more sturdy, and far more confining because of the shoulder-guards, if that was even possible for the already thick Doman style. And it was untainted or painted, without etched designs, just a simple shell of protection of what seemed to be silver.
Her appearance and resemblance was strange enough upon his awakening. . .
And now she pulled out his scarf.
After he woke up in the ruins of Kefka's tower, somehow surviving the collapse-
~Running away again. . .~
-He found it missing. It was the only thing that was absolutely gone on his person that was of any importance to him. Not in a survival sense, yet. . .
It was his, something he had since forgotten, hoping the memories he associated with it would follow.
They never did.
And as far as he was concerned they got worse as some other things got better. But he didn't care less. Nothing had changed much, spare keeping up his occupation was fairly difficult (No one needed an assassin anymore) and Interceptor was in Thamasa. He simply wandered from town to town, haunting the memories of the people who dared see him at the bars.
And she knew about the Striker. He wouldn't doubt that she could have heard from someone, but to know *he* had it was another story.
Maybe she knew one of the other fourteen. . . ?
As the flood of the brigands came down, and after the quick glance at the jester-humored woman, he found himself snatching the blue, gold, and now violet silk out of her hand. Then he was running, the fire in his stomach like venom as the wound was opening more, sprouting hot blood like a volcano and his brain a poorly balanced boulder. If this person, this weaponless "knight," was so careless in battle, she was either highly skilled or as arrogant as a fawn walking through a wolf pack. Yet from what he perceived, she knew what she was doing to some extent. She moved in perfect time to taunt the thieves so far, and she certainly was prepared to some extent in her own way, with the potions and the steed-bird.
He bit back the fireworks he saw in the lens of his eyes, as well as the flash of memories as he once again fled, however wounded yet not lacking any skill to withstand the agony. Hell, he lived off the venomous pain. Yet at the moment, he did not notice anything of that sort. He was busy looking for that "golden bird."
He heard three pairs of footsteps following him in the clay dirt, yet even after his succumberance to the pain and destruction to his body minutes ago, was far more agile than the trio pursuing him. He took to the bushes where the Albino-like woman had mentioned, becoming nothing more of an invisible whirlwind among the leaves, wood, and crumbling clay under his boots, the bloody cloth in his hand.
He found he didn't know why he was even listening to her. He didn't have time to worry about her having a snake's tongue or use his own direction of escape. Maybe that welt he felt growing across his scull had something to do with it. But the old lessons, for years unlearned, lingered.
~A fool once again,~ he muttered to himself. The words in his mind were laced with the bitterness of being overcome and leaving others for the dirty work. Guilt. ~Even after Kefka I'm still running. . .~
Yet he allowed the apathy to temporarily release the relentless banging in his mind. Another bone in the already towering pile.
The ground went downhill, causing the offenders trouble as the loose clay turned into a brittle sand, causing them to slide. It was nothing to Shadow, even in his weakened state- he would do just as well going up hill. He lost them in the green foliage, being as silent as if he lived in it all his life, his eyes sharp for any disruption to the patterns of the already chaotic-like forest.
But it did not take him long, for the beast did not wander far from where it was mentioned to be.
The bird was half hidden in a bush, it's head and forewing easily seen like the sun in the sky, however only when looked at from a certain angle.
Shadow stopped- there was enough distance for him to move to the bird slowly, without scaring it into a run. The loose pebbles beneath his shoes skidded down the mountain, causing the chocobo to look up from the roots it was pecking at.
Shadow knew that there was something wrong with the bird as soon as he saw it move, his own defensive reflexes rising for the fact he could be facing another possible enemy. The aura of the feathered beast was enough to tell the assassin it was not the automatically happy sort. The bird, which was far more scrawny that Shadow would have thought but rather useful in this terrain, lowered it's head threateningly, the feathers around it's neck fluffing as it glared at him. It did not seem to be all that tame, as the silver-armored woman predicted. To ride this beast, she must have known her creatures well.
The faint tint of distrust Shadow felt for the woman on the road, one of the many things he let out of his personal Pandora's Box freely, was fairly obliterated.
Silence reined in the trees for a moment as the ninja held out the cloth in his right hand, moving as slowly as he could muster. He felt time wasting away as the three far behind him were most likely following his trail of blood, urging him to steadily edge closer to the deafly silent and almost mangy yellow bird. A perfectly silent chocobo was not one to be screwed with when showing any form of aggressive tendencies. If it hissed, he would forget about the damn thing. No use in a creature that would sooner trample his brains out while he had more people coming at him from behind.
Yet as he moved closer, closing the distance from ten feet to eight, the chocobo suddenly stood up strait, the feathers on it's neck unruffling, it's eyes looking right to what the assassin offered. Shadow stood still- the bird made offensive advance, yet the strange look in it's eye was uncanny now- not as blood-searing, but rather unpredictable. He tensed as the chocobo walked up to him, wary in each step but just a little more faster than he was, saving Shadow the time of having to get himself far more closer to the steed.
The beak went right to the cloth, however cautiously, where it noted the smell of the former rider's blood, its sharp black eyes looking down at the blue piece. Briefly, it regarded the dark red trail of blood down the assassin's front, only pointing it's beak at it and glancing to then make a sneezing sound. Right there and then, all the tension broke. Shadow was not greatly surprised as a simpleton, yet he was more prepared for the chocobo to take his hand off at the wrist. And much against his expectancy, the chocobo warked clearly, and rather lazily with a laid-back drawl. It then faced left, pawing its right foot, and held its head high, ruffling the wings.
Shadow automatically took that action as an invitation to ride, and not wanting to waste more time than needed, swiftly went onto the saddle and took the reins as the three ungraceful thieves were beginning to come into view. . . Yet unwisely, they were descending in one line.
Shadow managed an amusing realization at the stupidity of the three. ~If Figaro ever decided to clear them out they would never stand a-~
Mid-thought, the chocobo proved to be a war-beast.
Shadow was almost bucked off when the yellow-feathered steed pushed off, darting off the hill like a torpedo, his head spinning violently for the acceleration. The stubborn bird did not take Shadow's orders of the reins to steer away from the three, yet with all the branches smacking him, he could do nothing but try to hang on as his head felt as if it was cracked in two and the balance of the planet tipped.
Then Shadow's mild sense of surprise arose after the unmerciful torture of inertia was past it's worst, allowing him to open his eyes to see the bird was charging at the attackers. The shriek it gave sounded like an undead T- rex, echoing and shrill to the ears. Shadow winced slightly, pain flaring though his head like an arrow. Bark could be worse than bite. But in this case, bite was still a lot worse.
The chocobo went right up the unsteady ground, hissing and spreading it's wings, fluffing itself up as it plowed down the first man beneath its heavy feet. Shadow felt the vibration of something vital being crushed, but paid no mind to it, rather watching the fate of the next thief.
The second was not so lucky, the bird savagely lowing it's head and taking a nice clean bite from his shoulder and neck, the collar bone ripped clean out with what seemed to be whatever muscle and veins near it. The last man was a little more fortunate, trying to get out of the way but was hit in the head by the chocobo's wing and brought to the ground by the former bloodied body.
Shadow did not looked back to see if the man got out of the way unharmed, yet he would not have a doubt that the fallen idiot was going to be deaf in his right ear for quite a while.
There was a clash of metal in the air on the clear, clay-dirt path. Obviously the fight was commencing with some sparks. The strange woman was alive. Either she had taken one of the thieves's weapons or fighting was without one.
The chocobo was in its fury-speeded chase up the hill, yet stopped it's screaming and louder noises as moved past the three, and grew even more silent as it reached the area where the trees and their shielding protection ended. It had even more intelligence as its appearance gave. It chirped softly as it stood still, turning its head to stare at the hooded rider. Waiting for an order?
It had some training after all.
Shadow took the liberty of sitting up more, pulling a branch of green from the wrist of his glove as he surveyed the area warily- it seemed the fight moved a little east, to where the road widened and the sun hit the red earth more directly. Shadow squinted his eyes- there was a glare of metal, most of it coming from the armor of the ivory figure that seemed to move about like water. After that he could only stand to shake off the burning of the glare that echoed as the color red under his eyelids and listen. There were shouts of men, rather frustrated ones at that. Others were. . . Laughing?
Although he could have easily withstood both the pain of the wound at his stomach and the concussion, he was as helpless to the fact that if he were to pass out he would have no way to prevent it. Every once and a while the painfully acute surroundings would dull to a deafness, blindness, or lack of any physical reality at all, like he was being pulled from his body on a suspended wire.
Logic stood on the bodies of his dead emotions in the storm.
Shadow gripped the reins, steering the feathered beast of burden to the clear path, back to Figaro Castle and it's deserts, away from the fight. The girl would fight on her own. She stuck herself in that position.
The bird walked.
***
The woman with the white hair was, strangely enough, standing on the back of one of the thieves, strangling him with a white cloth as she leaned up against the clay wall. From Shadow's memory of observing her as he was revived from his unconscious state, he faintly remembered it was the bandage from her hand.
~She uses her healing as an attack. . . ~ The scene was far too humorous, and also ridiculous, that even Shadow allowed himself a small smile under his mask, however briefly as the lack of vision sweeped into the corner of his eyes like the poisoned waters of Doma, once again freezing the source of the expression to ice.
The tortured brigand was swaying his sword around madly, unintentionally keeping his allies at bay as the girl even somehow got chocobo feathers in his hair prior to when Shadow was again able to see how she faired. Half of the thieves were actually laughing *with* her.
So he was not just imagining it.
The assassin saw the strange child-like warrior's cleverness from the ridge of which the thieves formerly perched to the west, using the slope not even a quarter of a mile away from where he was attacked to climb atop on the chocobo and return on the advantage of high elevation.
Nearby that organic ramp he left the empty bottle of the potion on the ground. It did not do much for his stomach wound, but he did gain a fair amount of balance again. His senses were still a problem, yet he did not have the out of body experience as often. But other than that the single potion only worked on bruised shins and was a temporary, internal, anti- bacterial solution. Nothing powerful, nothing good. Just something with only a little use.
What drove Shadow to order the chocobo up that slope and go back was not something he was willing to describe or think about. He just did it- nothing he really expected. He used the excuse of the Striker (although he could always return and seek it out later) and the potion to return, allowing the "dead" emotions to pursuade him briefly like chained slaves, who ironically told masters what to do.
Now he found an advantage to not only watch and wait out of direct sight but intercede-
~Interceptor. . . ~
-with some ease if he was given the chance to do it.
Since the fall of Kefka, the guilt that guided him grew a little more silent as he faced against the path of the sun.
He observed the woman in the unique Doman armor when he looked to the east from the chocobo's perch at an outcropping above the sight of the vagabonds, easily able to see the movements clearly. At least it would be where he watched and waited until he was discovered by a displaced glance or found a pattern to work with that suited him. He would either be eventually forced to attack with his poorer skills of battle from chocobo- back (Which would not be as hard considering the former rampage of the bird) or a wait and find a path cleared past the weaponless warrior.
He would wait where he was, out of direct vision but able to observe and time his next action.
The masked-assassin did not want to risk killing the chocobo by getting it impaled by jumping on the thieves below unless he had an absolute reason to risk it.
Even Shadow preferred to go on chocobo after getting a concussion and a gash in his stomach, even if the damned bird liked him or not.
The thief the ivory-warrior basically "rode" lost his balance when she lowered herself and kicked him behind the knee, causing the "steed" to fall flat onto his face, gasping for air as the bandage loosened. She traded mercy to him for her life as the other thieves closed in on her, for the clay wall and the human shield were no longer available. There must have been more thieves from when Shadow last fought. He killed at least five of them before, and once again was dealing with at least fifteen of this clan, with three in the bush, two on the ground yet still alive, and ten still standing. However one looked like he was having trouble with his balance- blood stained his right kneecap.
Maybe they had Phoenix Downs, which had grown increasingly rare since magic died.
Shadow's crazy chocobo reared with the sight of all the new commotion of its owner running around while chased, tensing the muscles in its fear.
~Still!~ hissed Shadow's mind as his muscles buckled under his flesh to keep balanced, folding the skin around the hole in his skin. Yet he did not curse for the hot pain- he was cursing for he didn't want to draw more attention. Strangely enough, the chocobo calmed itself as he pulled the reins once more, merely flapping it's wings and chirping almost inaudibly, rather worriedly. Was this a chocobo or an oversized chicken? Usually, chocobos simply fled back to their stable, not pick at rots in the woods, when there was no rider, and never did Shadow see one become attached to a human- the birds even seemed neutral to their caretakers at the stables.
This was one of the more strange things he had encountered in quite a long time.
One hell of a long time.
The weaponless fighter kicked off the back of her fallen "mount," ducking under a blade that was moving to decapitate her, missing and hitting the clay wall. From the position of under the arms of her miscellaneous attacker, she spun to both face the next offender and drive her shoulder- guards into the former's stomach, causing him to drop his sword and buckle up, holding his gut. The woman was fast enough to avoid getting splattered with the man's throw up, who did so on the "human-chocobo," and stand, as well as step to her right. The next one's sword missed her by far as she once again spun past it, like a strange dancer, and smacking him in the back of the head with the other shoulder-guard. He sunk to the ground, out cold, defeated by the use of defense-as-offence.
Shadow had seen the strange ways of fighting by many people- the dancing ways of the moogles's which first came to mind, Realm's power to draw things, Gogo's ability to mimic, Edgar's use of tools, Setzer's cards, Terra's powers to transform. Yet this was so far the most simple and bazaar way of combat without magic enhancements- or even an actual weapon for that matter, that Shadow had so far observed. Even by monsters or any person in the Coliseum had not had a technique even similar to this. And her reactions were comical, laughing and humiliating the attackers, although not a new thing (Locke, for one) was certainly in the record with it's intensity. She had no fear. And briefly, she even got one of the men to cut his own belt, sending his pants to the ground, with his own sword.
That one turned out to be the one who took the Striker.
The fool must had grazed himself, for he soon was tripping in his clothing, but when he touched the ground his mouth was open and eyes were empty. The child-like warrior leaped over him (she must have had some skill is air dynamics, for she both leaped over the carcass backwards and long-ways) to avoid the circling men who were left with nothing but air at her light- hearted disappearance in their collective mass, landing in a crouch. She grabbed the legendary sword by its blade briefly to drag it closer to herself at first with her right hand, and changed it to her fist quickly, holding it up to simply look at it as she grinned with curiosity. Her back was to the incline, protected by the trees and sand-like pebbles, and the thieves where only just starting to close in on her again, so she made no real fault.
Yet as she looked at the thief's face, to insinuate her glee with the retrieval of the sword as a tease, seeing he had no life her form changed drastically. The smile left her face, and what remained was a calculating expression with a rather distant or startled look, as she went still as if she turned to stone. She must have not expected the man to be dead- not many people knew of the poison in the Striker's blade, lethal at times with even the smallest of scratches. Her smile and her simple humor faded for what Shadow expected to be the first time in this battle.
She did not mean to kill him.
The thief's open eyes stared at the chocobo's illegitimate owner as she once again glanced to the sword, her blue hazes serious and rather cautious of what she held after seeing it's affect on mortals.
Her expression changed again, now seemingly rather confused. Maybe she was baffled that the thief was dead, and was relating that she didn't see him impale himself on the sword- that a scratch couldn't kill a man no matter what legends said. Maybe she did hear of the legendary name of Striker in one or more tales, and now was coming to see she had it in her hand.
But either way, she stood, looking down at the body, and quickly disregarded it,bringing herself from her thoughts to the present. And it seemed her skill was not with swords- or she didn't want to use the deadly blade again- for she stuck it through the back of her belt. After getting the sword out of her hands and onto her back, her strange smile showed again and went right back into the group that could be just as deadly as the blade could be to her without a second thought.
It was like she was playing a game that briefly turned dark, timed out, and resumed with the same amount of fury as before.
And now Shadow was like a dark eagle. Not for the fact he sat and waited, watching without physically focusing his eyes but rather looking out as if a person would out of the corner, a mental fixation, but for the fact that instincts kicked in.
He knew he would be swooping down in a matter of moments.
That hype filled the back of his mind for a brief moment, as it did many times before in his years. After the first few times it happened when he was younger, he started using the "sixth sense," cultivating it. It was one of the things that tended to make him all the more infamous in people's eyes. He knew the more drastic actions would have killed him if not for that "hunch."
A few seconds passed, blades swinging about, people tripping over each other and yelling, a comical scene for those who did not have a quick eye and even faster mind. Shadow observed the warrior-child, looking for the key his subconsious already spotted.
Almost immediately he saw she did not grin as brightly as before. And she was actually slowing down. Although that stupid grin was on her face, Shadow was able to "reach" and feel that her own thoughts were clouding, the vitalty starting to disspell and being sapped away.
Once again the surreal quake of the Pandora's box pointed that her lack of humor was not because she indirectly, however accidentally, took a life when she did not mean it. He also found the logical proof to act on the disembodied knowledge, sending the reason why he was getting the impulse to move down to the fight before.
Guilt echoed from the crypt once again.
~Shit.~
And the assassin was forced into action.
~ Author noties: As you well know, this is from SHADOW'S POINT OF VIEW! And if you want to know why he is not thinking much with words as Arch is, it's a part of his personality. Quiet people sometimes have quiet minds because they observe things more, but when they observe something that can be put into words at the top of they're head, it's usually to remember things or speak to a person. That's your lesson FOR TODAY! ::Chalk on a chalk-board screech.::
And if anyone knows the name of that undead-dinosaur T-rex thing you have to fight in the Phoenix Cave, that's the think I was referring to. I remember the monster itself, but I was never good with names..:D
And I have a question for Doc-mun! Can I name the psychotic chocobo after YOU?! ::Strange eye-goggle.:: MUAHAHA! I think I just might. I see a pun somewhere. ^ ^ ~ Arch-" Great. :: Sarcastic snort and mock-anger, while grinning .:: Kill me why don't you! P"
Celtic-"::Glare.:: Oh shut up. O :: Happy grin.:: The chocobo might come from FF Tactics and revive you anyway. :D"
Arch-"WHEE~! ^ ^"
Hell (Another character very similar to Arch, but is in a different storyline and is far more insane. You can kind of tell by the name, eyh? D)-" Howcome SHE get's to meet Ramza?!"
Celtic-" I never said she was. And besides- You just might do something rather inappropriate to Arith! XP"
Hell-"::Tries to look naïve.:: Like what?"
Arch-"Ohmygof.."
Celtic-"Stick a bomb under her skirt, for one."
Hell-"Actually, I was aiming for a drug-bomb in her flower basket to her get high and see what she would do. ^ ^"
Celtic-"She'll see some real nice colorful flowers then! D "
Arch-" I'm sure she'd love that.XD"
Celtic-" But too bad. You'll give Arith ideas with swindling costumers with an airborne disease with at stupid moss-stuff that killed half the people in the game."
Hell-"Then can I stick a fire-bomb in her basket? O.o "
Celtic-" We don't need Arith all over my TV screen, and we don't need a chocobo-headed guy all depressed again. Plus, she would get killed by people in trenchcoats too much. "
Hell-"::Devious thoughtful look.::"
Celtic-" And no, you can't hire Setzer to hire you to kill Arith to get her killed by threnchies TWO TIMES OVER!"
Hell-"::Has a "plan thwarted" look.::"
Arch-"Cellie, I think your note is going to be bigger than the story if you two don't shut up. Give Shadow a break! O_O"
Celtic AND Hell-"::Silence.:: O.O"
Shadow-"."
::And then Oggy, a fairly strange dude, walks in.::
Oggy-"Yah. Suddenly the actual Final Fantasy character talks."
Hell(To Shadow)-" Hey, do you think you can get Sabin drunk and get him to sing the Marrie-Poppin's theme? :D"
Shadow glanced at her. If he just met her at the exact second, he would have thought her as insane. But from what he saw in the last three minutes, he knew otherwise just by the look in her eyes. It was no where near Kefka's. And what he saw other than that stunned him. And for once, he could admit that.
He was expecting death for the final goddamned time. His actual demise, like so many times before. Yet it evaded him once again- or more or less he did. He ran from the reaper even when he wasn't doing a thing about it. Not a Goddamned thing.
And she revived him. He did not know her. Never saw her in his life. Yet he almost did. *Almost did.*
She almost looked like Realm years into the future.
It was with the features of her face- the large, watchful eyes and somehow fragile yet wide jaws. If her eyes were the intense green as they were the intense blue, he would have made the effort to ask who she exactly was. Yet he knew it wasn't Realm, and quickly dismissed the notion. It took a while to notice, but this girl was at least five years older than what he thought at first- maybe a few years younger than Terra. That and she had the pale skin and hair of Setzer. Yet, like Celes, didn't have his pasty look that in Shadow's opinion, looked ill. She wore armor like Cyan, having the heavy Doman structure and plating. Yet it seemed far more sturdy, and far more confining because of the shoulder-guards, if that was even possible for the already thick Doman style. And it was untainted or painted, without etched designs, just a simple shell of protection of what seemed to be silver.
Her appearance and resemblance was strange enough upon his awakening. . .
And now she pulled out his scarf.
After he woke up in the ruins of Kefka's tower, somehow surviving the collapse-
~Running away again. . .~
-He found it missing. It was the only thing that was absolutely gone on his person that was of any importance to him. Not in a survival sense, yet. . .
It was his, something he had since forgotten, hoping the memories he associated with it would follow.
They never did.
And as far as he was concerned they got worse as some other things got better. But he didn't care less. Nothing had changed much, spare keeping up his occupation was fairly difficult (No one needed an assassin anymore) and Interceptor was in Thamasa. He simply wandered from town to town, haunting the memories of the people who dared see him at the bars.
And she knew about the Striker. He wouldn't doubt that she could have heard from someone, but to know *he* had it was another story.
Maybe she knew one of the other fourteen. . . ?
As the flood of the brigands came down, and after the quick glance at the jester-humored woman, he found himself snatching the blue, gold, and now violet silk out of her hand. Then he was running, the fire in his stomach like venom as the wound was opening more, sprouting hot blood like a volcano and his brain a poorly balanced boulder. If this person, this weaponless "knight," was so careless in battle, she was either highly skilled or as arrogant as a fawn walking through a wolf pack. Yet from what he perceived, she knew what she was doing to some extent. She moved in perfect time to taunt the thieves so far, and she certainly was prepared to some extent in her own way, with the potions and the steed-bird.
He bit back the fireworks he saw in the lens of his eyes, as well as the flash of memories as he once again fled, however wounded yet not lacking any skill to withstand the agony. Hell, he lived off the venomous pain. Yet at the moment, he did not notice anything of that sort. He was busy looking for that "golden bird."
He heard three pairs of footsteps following him in the clay dirt, yet even after his succumberance to the pain and destruction to his body minutes ago, was far more agile than the trio pursuing him. He took to the bushes where the Albino-like woman had mentioned, becoming nothing more of an invisible whirlwind among the leaves, wood, and crumbling clay under his boots, the bloody cloth in his hand.
He found he didn't know why he was even listening to her. He didn't have time to worry about her having a snake's tongue or use his own direction of escape. Maybe that welt he felt growing across his scull had something to do with it. But the old lessons, for years unlearned, lingered.
~A fool once again,~ he muttered to himself. The words in his mind were laced with the bitterness of being overcome and leaving others for the dirty work. Guilt. ~Even after Kefka I'm still running. . .~
Yet he allowed the apathy to temporarily release the relentless banging in his mind. Another bone in the already towering pile.
The ground went downhill, causing the offenders trouble as the loose clay turned into a brittle sand, causing them to slide. It was nothing to Shadow, even in his weakened state- he would do just as well going up hill. He lost them in the green foliage, being as silent as if he lived in it all his life, his eyes sharp for any disruption to the patterns of the already chaotic-like forest.
But it did not take him long, for the beast did not wander far from where it was mentioned to be.
The bird was half hidden in a bush, it's head and forewing easily seen like the sun in the sky, however only when looked at from a certain angle.
Shadow stopped- there was enough distance for him to move to the bird slowly, without scaring it into a run. The loose pebbles beneath his shoes skidded down the mountain, causing the chocobo to look up from the roots it was pecking at.
Shadow knew that there was something wrong with the bird as soon as he saw it move, his own defensive reflexes rising for the fact he could be facing another possible enemy. The aura of the feathered beast was enough to tell the assassin it was not the automatically happy sort. The bird, which was far more scrawny that Shadow would have thought but rather useful in this terrain, lowered it's head threateningly, the feathers around it's neck fluffing as it glared at him. It did not seem to be all that tame, as the silver-armored woman predicted. To ride this beast, she must have known her creatures well.
The faint tint of distrust Shadow felt for the woman on the road, one of the many things he let out of his personal Pandora's Box freely, was fairly obliterated.
Silence reined in the trees for a moment as the ninja held out the cloth in his right hand, moving as slowly as he could muster. He felt time wasting away as the three far behind him were most likely following his trail of blood, urging him to steadily edge closer to the deafly silent and almost mangy yellow bird. A perfectly silent chocobo was not one to be screwed with when showing any form of aggressive tendencies. If it hissed, he would forget about the damn thing. No use in a creature that would sooner trample his brains out while he had more people coming at him from behind.
Yet as he moved closer, closing the distance from ten feet to eight, the chocobo suddenly stood up strait, the feathers on it's neck unruffling, it's eyes looking right to what the assassin offered. Shadow stood still- the bird made offensive advance, yet the strange look in it's eye was uncanny now- not as blood-searing, but rather unpredictable. He tensed as the chocobo walked up to him, wary in each step but just a little more faster than he was, saving Shadow the time of having to get himself far more closer to the steed.
The beak went right to the cloth, however cautiously, where it noted the smell of the former rider's blood, its sharp black eyes looking down at the blue piece. Briefly, it regarded the dark red trail of blood down the assassin's front, only pointing it's beak at it and glancing to then make a sneezing sound. Right there and then, all the tension broke. Shadow was not greatly surprised as a simpleton, yet he was more prepared for the chocobo to take his hand off at the wrist. And much against his expectancy, the chocobo warked clearly, and rather lazily with a laid-back drawl. It then faced left, pawing its right foot, and held its head high, ruffling the wings.
Shadow automatically took that action as an invitation to ride, and not wanting to waste more time than needed, swiftly went onto the saddle and took the reins as the three ungraceful thieves were beginning to come into view. . . Yet unwisely, they were descending in one line.
Shadow managed an amusing realization at the stupidity of the three. ~If Figaro ever decided to clear them out they would never stand a-~
Mid-thought, the chocobo proved to be a war-beast.
Shadow was almost bucked off when the yellow-feathered steed pushed off, darting off the hill like a torpedo, his head spinning violently for the acceleration. The stubborn bird did not take Shadow's orders of the reins to steer away from the three, yet with all the branches smacking him, he could do nothing but try to hang on as his head felt as if it was cracked in two and the balance of the planet tipped.
Then Shadow's mild sense of surprise arose after the unmerciful torture of inertia was past it's worst, allowing him to open his eyes to see the bird was charging at the attackers. The shriek it gave sounded like an undead T- rex, echoing and shrill to the ears. Shadow winced slightly, pain flaring though his head like an arrow. Bark could be worse than bite. But in this case, bite was still a lot worse.
The chocobo went right up the unsteady ground, hissing and spreading it's wings, fluffing itself up as it plowed down the first man beneath its heavy feet. Shadow felt the vibration of something vital being crushed, but paid no mind to it, rather watching the fate of the next thief.
The second was not so lucky, the bird savagely lowing it's head and taking a nice clean bite from his shoulder and neck, the collar bone ripped clean out with what seemed to be whatever muscle and veins near it. The last man was a little more fortunate, trying to get out of the way but was hit in the head by the chocobo's wing and brought to the ground by the former bloodied body.
Shadow did not looked back to see if the man got out of the way unharmed, yet he would not have a doubt that the fallen idiot was going to be deaf in his right ear for quite a while.
There was a clash of metal in the air on the clear, clay-dirt path. Obviously the fight was commencing with some sparks. The strange woman was alive. Either she had taken one of the thieves's weapons or fighting was without one.
The chocobo was in its fury-speeded chase up the hill, yet stopped it's screaming and louder noises as moved past the three, and grew even more silent as it reached the area where the trees and their shielding protection ended. It had even more intelligence as its appearance gave. It chirped softly as it stood still, turning its head to stare at the hooded rider. Waiting for an order?
It had some training after all.
Shadow took the liberty of sitting up more, pulling a branch of green from the wrist of his glove as he surveyed the area warily- it seemed the fight moved a little east, to where the road widened and the sun hit the red earth more directly. Shadow squinted his eyes- there was a glare of metal, most of it coming from the armor of the ivory figure that seemed to move about like water. After that he could only stand to shake off the burning of the glare that echoed as the color red under his eyelids and listen. There were shouts of men, rather frustrated ones at that. Others were. . . Laughing?
Although he could have easily withstood both the pain of the wound at his stomach and the concussion, he was as helpless to the fact that if he were to pass out he would have no way to prevent it. Every once and a while the painfully acute surroundings would dull to a deafness, blindness, or lack of any physical reality at all, like he was being pulled from his body on a suspended wire.
Logic stood on the bodies of his dead emotions in the storm.
Shadow gripped the reins, steering the feathered beast of burden to the clear path, back to Figaro Castle and it's deserts, away from the fight. The girl would fight on her own. She stuck herself in that position.
The bird walked.
***
The woman with the white hair was, strangely enough, standing on the back of one of the thieves, strangling him with a white cloth as she leaned up against the clay wall. From Shadow's memory of observing her as he was revived from his unconscious state, he faintly remembered it was the bandage from her hand.
~She uses her healing as an attack. . . ~ The scene was far too humorous, and also ridiculous, that even Shadow allowed himself a small smile under his mask, however briefly as the lack of vision sweeped into the corner of his eyes like the poisoned waters of Doma, once again freezing the source of the expression to ice.
The tortured brigand was swaying his sword around madly, unintentionally keeping his allies at bay as the girl even somehow got chocobo feathers in his hair prior to when Shadow was again able to see how she faired. Half of the thieves were actually laughing *with* her.
So he was not just imagining it.
The assassin saw the strange child-like warrior's cleverness from the ridge of which the thieves formerly perched to the west, using the slope not even a quarter of a mile away from where he was attacked to climb atop on the chocobo and return on the advantage of high elevation.
Nearby that organic ramp he left the empty bottle of the potion on the ground. It did not do much for his stomach wound, but he did gain a fair amount of balance again. His senses were still a problem, yet he did not have the out of body experience as often. But other than that the single potion only worked on bruised shins and was a temporary, internal, anti- bacterial solution. Nothing powerful, nothing good. Just something with only a little use.
What drove Shadow to order the chocobo up that slope and go back was not something he was willing to describe or think about. He just did it- nothing he really expected. He used the excuse of the Striker (although he could always return and seek it out later) and the potion to return, allowing the "dead" emotions to pursuade him briefly like chained slaves, who ironically told masters what to do.
Now he found an advantage to not only watch and wait out of direct sight but intercede-
~Interceptor. . . ~
-with some ease if he was given the chance to do it.
Since the fall of Kefka, the guilt that guided him grew a little more silent as he faced against the path of the sun.
He observed the woman in the unique Doman armor when he looked to the east from the chocobo's perch at an outcropping above the sight of the vagabonds, easily able to see the movements clearly. At least it would be where he watched and waited until he was discovered by a displaced glance or found a pattern to work with that suited him. He would either be eventually forced to attack with his poorer skills of battle from chocobo- back (Which would not be as hard considering the former rampage of the bird) or a wait and find a path cleared past the weaponless warrior.
He would wait where he was, out of direct vision but able to observe and time his next action.
The masked-assassin did not want to risk killing the chocobo by getting it impaled by jumping on the thieves below unless he had an absolute reason to risk it.
Even Shadow preferred to go on chocobo after getting a concussion and a gash in his stomach, even if the damned bird liked him or not.
The thief the ivory-warrior basically "rode" lost his balance when she lowered herself and kicked him behind the knee, causing the "steed" to fall flat onto his face, gasping for air as the bandage loosened. She traded mercy to him for her life as the other thieves closed in on her, for the clay wall and the human shield were no longer available. There must have been more thieves from when Shadow last fought. He killed at least five of them before, and once again was dealing with at least fifteen of this clan, with three in the bush, two on the ground yet still alive, and ten still standing. However one looked like he was having trouble with his balance- blood stained his right kneecap.
Maybe they had Phoenix Downs, which had grown increasingly rare since magic died.
Shadow's crazy chocobo reared with the sight of all the new commotion of its owner running around while chased, tensing the muscles in its fear.
~Still!~ hissed Shadow's mind as his muscles buckled under his flesh to keep balanced, folding the skin around the hole in his skin. Yet he did not curse for the hot pain- he was cursing for he didn't want to draw more attention. Strangely enough, the chocobo calmed itself as he pulled the reins once more, merely flapping it's wings and chirping almost inaudibly, rather worriedly. Was this a chocobo or an oversized chicken? Usually, chocobos simply fled back to their stable, not pick at rots in the woods, when there was no rider, and never did Shadow see one become attached to a human- the birds even seemed neutral to their caretakers at the stables.
This was one of the more strange things he had encountered in quite a long time.
One hell of a long time.
The weaponless fighter kicked off the back of her fallen "mount," ducking under a blade that was moving to decapitate her, missing and hitting the clay wall. From the position of under the arms of her miscellaneous attacker, she spun to both face the next offender and drive her shoulder- guards into the former's stomach, causing him to drop his sword and buckle up, holding his gut. The woman was fast enough to avoid getting splattered with the man's throw up, who did so on the "human-chocobo," and stand, as well as step to her right. The next one's sword missed her by far as she once again spun past it, like a strange dancer, and smacking him in the back of the head with the other shoulder-guard. He sunk to the ground, out cold, defeated by the use of defense-as-offence.
Shadow had seen the strange ways of fighting by many people- the dancing ways of the moogles's which first came to mind, Realm's power to draw things, Gogo's ability to mimic, Edgar's use of tools, Setzer's cards, Terra's powers to transform. Yet this was so far the most simple and bazaar way of combat without magic enhancements- or even an actual weapon for that matter, that Shadow had so far observed. Even by monsters or any person in the Coliseum had not had a technique even similar to this. And her reactions were comical, laughing and humiliating the attackers, although not a new thing (Locke, for one) was certainly in the record with it's intensity. She had no fear. And briefly, she even got one of the men to cut his own belt, sending his pants to the ground, with his own sword.
That one turned out to be the one who took the Striker.
The fool must had grazed himself, for he soon was tripping in his clothing, but when he touched the ground his mouth was open and eyes were empty. The child-like warrior leaped over him (she must have had some skill is air dynamics, for she both leaped over the carcass backwards and long-ways) to avoid the circling men who were left with nothing but air at her light- hearted disappearance in their collective mass, landing in a crouch. She grabbed the legendary sword by its blade briefly to drag it closer to herself at first with her right hand, and changed it to her fist quickly, holding it up to simply look at it as she grinned with curiosity. Her back was to the incline, protected by the trees and sand-like pebbles, and the thieves where only just starting to close in on her again, so she made no real fault.
Yet as she looked at the thief's face, to insinuate her glee with the retrieval of the sword as a tease, seeing he had no life her form changed drastically. The smile left her face, and what remained was a calculating expression with a rather distant or startled look, as she went still as if she turned to stone. She must have not expected the man to be dead- not many people knew of the poison in the Striker's blade, lethal at times with even the smallest of scratches. Her smile and her simple humor faded for what Shadow expected to be the first time in this battle.
She did not mean to kill him.
The thief's open eyes stared at the chocobo's illegitimate owner as she once again glanced to the sword, her blue hazes serious and rather cautious of what she held after seeing it's affect on mortals.
Her expression changed again, now seemingly rather confused. Maybe she was baffled that the thief was dead, and was relating that she didn't see him impale himself on the sword- that a scratch couldn't kill a man no matter what legends said. Maybe she did hear of the legendary name of Striker in one or more tales, and now was coming to see she had it in her hand.
But either way, she stood, looking down at the body, and quickly disregarded it,bringing herself from her thoughts to the present. And it seemed her skill was not with swords- or she didn't want to use the deadly blade again- for she stuck it through the back of her belt. After getting the sword out of her hands and onto her back, her strange smile showed again and went right back into the group that could be just as deadly as the blade could be to her without a second thought.
It was like she was playing a game that briefly turned dark, timed out, and resumed with the same amount of fury as before.
And now Shadow was like a dark eagle. Not for the fact he sat and waited, watching without physically focusing his eyes but rather looking out as if a person would out of the corner, a mental fixation, but for the fact that instincts kicked in.
He knew he would be swooping down in a matter of moments.
That hype filled the back of his mind for a brief moment, as it did many times before in his years. After the first few times it happened when he was younger, he started using the "sixth sense," cultivating it. It was one of the things that tended to make him all the more infamous in people's eyes. He knew the more drastic actions would have killed him if not for that "hunch."
A few seconds passed, blades swinging about, people tripping over each other and yelling, a comical scene for those who did not have a quick eye and even faster mind. Shadow observed the warrior-child, looking for the key his subconsious already spotted.
Almost immediately he saw she did not grin as brightly as before. And she was actually slowing down. Although that stupid grin was on her face, Shadow was able to "reach" and feel that her own thoughts were clouding, the vitalty starting to disspell and being sapped away.
Once again the surreal quake of the Pandora's box pointed that her lack of humor was not because she indirectly, however accidentally, took a life when she did not mean it. He also found the logical proof to act on the disembodied knowledge, sending the reason why he was getting the impulse to move down to the fight before.
Guilt echoed from the crypt once again.
~Shit.~
And the assassin was forced into action.
~ Author noties: As you well know, this is from SHADOW'S POINT OF VIEW! And if you want to know why he is not thinking much with words as Arch is, it's a part of his personality. Quiet people sometimes have quiet minds because they observe things more, but when they observe something that can be put into words at the top of they're head, it's usually to remember things or speak to a person. That's your lesson FOR TODAY! ::Chalk on a chalk-board screech.::
And if anyone knows the name of that undead-dinosaur T-rex thing you have to fight in the Phoenix Cave, that's the think I was referring to. I remember the monster itself, but I was never good with names..:D
And I have a question for Doc-mun! Can I name the psychotic chocobo after YOU?! ::Strange eye-goggle.:: MUAHAHA! I think I just might. I see a pun somewhere. ^ ^ ~ Arch-" Great. :: Sarcastic snort and mock-anger, while grinning .:: Kill me why don't you! P"
Celtic-"::Glare.:: Oh shut up. O :: Happy grin.:: The chocobo might come from FF Tactics and revive you anyway. :D"
Arch-"WHEE~! ^ ^"
Hell (Another character very similar to Arch, but is in a different storyline and is far more insane. You can kind of tell by the name, eyh? D)-" Howcome SHE get's to meet Ramza?!"
Celtic-" I never said she was. And besides- You just might do something rather inappropriate to Arith! XP"
Hell-"::Tries to look naïve.:: Like what?"
Arch-"Ohmygof.."
Celtic-"Stick a bomb under her skirt, for one."
Hell-"Actually, I was aiming for a drug-bomb in her flower basket to her get high and see what she would do. ^ ^"
Celtic-"She'll see some real nice colorful flowers then! D "
Arch-" I'm sure she'd love that.XD"
Celtic-" But too bad. You'll give Arith ideas with swindling costumers with an airborne disease with at stupid moss-stuff that killed half the people in the game."
Hell-"Then can I stick a fire-bomb in her basket? O.o "
Celtic-" We don't need Arith all over my TV screen, and we don't need a chocobo-headed guy all depressed again. Plus, she would get killed by people in trenchcoats too much. "
Hell-"::Devious thoughtful look.::"
Celtic-" And no, you can't hire Setzer to hire you to kill Arith to get her killed by threnchies TWO TIMES OVER!"
Hell-"::Has a "plan thwarted" look.::"
Arch-"Cellie, I think your note is going to be bigger than the story if you two don't shut up. Give Shadow a break! O_O"
Celtic AND Hell-"::Silence.:: O.O"
Shadow-"."
::And then Oggy, a fairly strange dude, walks in.::
Oggy-"Yah. Suddenly the actual Final Fantasy character talks."
Hell(To Shadow)-" Hey, do you think you can get Sabin drunk and get him to sing the Marrie-Poppin's theme? :D"