Copyrights: Kuja, FFIX, the Iifa Tree and all other references to Final Fantasy just don't belong to me.
Note, again, that later on there will be shounen-ai. Don't expect it to come up fast, but it's coming; the first few parts have none of it, but I do plan on incorporating it as a major plot point.
Anyway. Kuja doesn't belong to me, but most of the other characters featured are mine (Sardolasperion and, later on, Sariyah, especially). Both their character concepts are mine, as well.
Thanks for putting up with the babbling. Here goes chapter 2!
---
Asper led Kuja through darkened corridors lit by little more than floating wisps of cold blue fire. As the medical room had, the entire network of cavelike corridors was cold, chilling to the bone as though refrigerated. He noticed that the walls were almost wooden; it looked as though someone had hollowed out a length of wood with a chisel. The floors were lined with cold stone tiles that felt smooth and glacial against Kuja's naked feet; he hoped the 'more suitable accomodations' were at least heated.
The little moogle, half-flitting across the stone floor, led him into a length of hallway whose walls were petrified and polished to a glowing shine. Kuja was pleased to find that it was warmer here, though he did not shed the blanket he had pulled around his shoulders for fear someone might see him. Despite the welcome heat, he could not shed the pain of his mutilation. Finally, the two reached a rather tall wooden door with a symbol on it in red paint; Kuja recognised it as madr, a rune that, among other meanings, mean 'human'. He figured it had something to do with what was behind the door.
Asper pushed it open; it swung forward, though Kuja noticed that it had not been locked. The moogle faced him and offered a toothy smile. "Finally, I have someone tall enough to open this door. Now I won't have to keep it on push-swinging hinges." Leading the wrapped-up genome into the warmed, torchlit hallway beyond it, Asper waddlingly made his way toward the third door on the left. All three doors were wooden, polished, and ornately carved. They made Kuja feel almost as though he had reached civilisation again - but he knew better than to go too far with the sentiment.
The runty black moogle pointed insistently up at the doorknob; Kuja remembered that the bothered little creature couldn't get it open, as the huge round knob was about a third of his size, and opened it for him. The door creaked open antiquely, and the first thing Kuja noted about the room behind it was the smell.
It smelled like potpourri and age. The one scent was quite nice, but the overpowering smell of mildew was so there he could not get it away. The chamber itself looked rather like it had never been used - it was faultless, but disturbingly linear. A hardwood floor, polished to a warm shine; oil lamps on the tables and brackets on the walls would provide light when lit, and the bed was large, a stack of perfectly folded blankets at its foot. He could see white cushions, white enough to almost glow in the half-light, on top of the pile. A chest of drawers, in some golden variety of pine, was opposite the bed, and two doors on opposite walls indicated what Kuja assumed were a bathroom and a closet. The most disconcerting thing about the room was the lack of windows; blank, wood-paneled walls were hung with paintings or light fixtures, blocked by sculptures or had surfaces pushed up against them. A wooden desk was against the far wall, but the lack of natural light made Kuja feel somewhat disconcerted. The wood was nice, though, and as he leaned against the doorframe, he felt warmth in the veneer.
The moogle shrugged. "It's a little musty at the moment, but I'll see about getting some fresh air circulating in here. It's yours, though, until you're fully healed or feel like you want to leave."
Kuja's eyes flew wide. "Hey, haven't you 'healed' me enough?" He held out his arms, showing Asper the white scars running through the pale skin as though the moogle hadn't ever seen them.
Asper, more than coldly for a moogle, didn't even seem to care. "You won't have any magic, at all, for at least another four months. I've heard of your prowess with it, but I also know of rumours saying you depend on it." The moogle gazed at Kuja sharply, beady green eyes iced, and the words stabbed the man roughly - the little creature was right. There was no magic left in that little sphere of a reservoir somewhere between his heart and stomach; it was sucked more than dry. It felt uncomfortable and cramped up. Kuja scrunched up his face in an angered pout when Asper went on. "Your magical centre is damaged. You used so much magical energy in that last bout that you hurt the centre you kept it in, and it's incapable of storing anything anymore, even if it's a part of your soul, and not of your body. Refilling it using an ether or an elixir would probably hurt it, because of the shock."
These words infuriated Kuja, enough that he clenched a fist in frustration, but he said nothing. To his regret, the words Asper spoke were the truth - his magic was choked to the point of temporary nonexistence. One more spell, and everything - all the magic, all the spells - could have disappeared entirely. He counted himself lucky, though he could not help but stare in rosy-faced embarassment at the floor.
What was he now? He had made a list earlier, and retrieving the engrams to remember it was a bit of a task with the present ordeal. A soulless creature, meant to be dead, patched together and made living again, as living as he could be without a soul; and now he was deprived of magic for what Asper said would be at least four months. Four months and not a spell cast. And he had nowhere to go...
A sudden feeling of loneliness, great lonesome emptiness, as though he were the only thing floating in an endless black void - consuming, crushing, depressing. All he felt were more unshed tears; he had already cried before, and now he was angry at not being able to cry more. Sobs, choked and dry, scratched his throat, and he leaned against the doorframe dejectedly. He didn't even have his silken hair to cry into or hide in anymore, and it was all because of...
He looked down. Contempt. The little creature, smiling a smile dipped in sadism mixed with relish - the damned moogle, the wizard in a moogle's body. Kuja kept himself from grabbing the corrupt, rapacious little thing and ramming him against the wall, crushing his skull.
Yes. Crushing skulls was good. But at the moment, it was not a good idea, nor a conventional one, and he turned away from the feline faery to half-stagger into the wooden-walled bedroom. The half-light was bothersome, the wooden walls forming a box, the musty air reminding him of a prison; but it was his, at least presently, and he fell into the bed, grabbing a pillow from the end of the bed and curling up on top of the pristinely made bed.
"Sleep," Asper said, though before leaving he indicated a box on the night table next to Kuja's bed. "You can use the matches to light a lamp, if you need the light. Sleep," he repeated. "You seem to need it. I'll talk to you again later on about your stay."
Kuja was only too glad to hear the door close, and the moogle leave. One more sound like that creature's voice, and he would scream his agony for all Gaia to hear.
It was all gentility, like fireflies bobbing lightly around a sweetly bubbling fountain.
The dream had come slowly; after forcing himself to deeper sleep he slipped into that dreamlike state that is uncontrollable but magical. The first thing he saw was blue; jewel-blue, bluer than the sky or sea, the great blue light of Terra. At first it was lovely, but then he felt only coldness toward it, toward the blue light that would control him if it had the power over him. He willed himself to turn away.
And then the blue began to fade away, and the light became sharp and white, and it bathed him and made his spirit feel whole again; but he still did not feel happiness, nor did he feel comfort. He feared the light - feared the control.
But the light changed again, more slowly this time. As he stared at it, his stomach clenched to keep the control away, it slowly flowed into a soft green, and it was strange, but he felt it touch his face. It was refreshing and cool, but it made him feel warm and comfortable. He could smile again with the green light, as it seemed to care for him. It reached to him, and he reached to it, feeling comfort for the first time in a long time.
finit: deuxième chapitre
