Copyrights: I don't own FFIX or any of the concepts therein. If I did, there would be more Condie Petie and more Blank. Ah, Blank. 3 What I do own are a lot of pseudoscientific concepts in this fic, most (up to now, all) of the secondary characters, and the idea for the plot.
No shounen-ai yet, but it's comin'. Flee if it squicks you, stick around if you're patient. Please don't rush me, this is a story that's more about Kuja's development as a person than it is about his love. Thanks!
June 29: Prolific writing is made a reality by short chapters, yesss. :3;; I'm finishing up the fifth chapter as I upload this one. Fifth chapter -finally- introduces Main Character #3. Yaaay. :D;;
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Kuja prepared to step daintily from the wooden stool into the porcelain bath, which, though somewhat feminine, being painted with lavish rosy flowers all along the rim, was filled a little too much with steaming water. The zombies, who had left him to his duty by now, had seemed exceedingly uncomfortable with handling the warm water, though they had demonstrated exemplary courtesy worthy of any Lindblum inn staff; he would commend Asper later for his good work with granting those two grace under pressure. The water was extremely warm, and a single dip of a slim foot into it made him yelp a little. Still, it was a bath, and he was just a little smelly. (Not too smelly, though - Kuja refused to admit his own odor to himself.)
The bath was just deep enough to cover him up to the base of the throat when he sat. He was amused by the fact that the tub resembled a teacup more than a bathing unit, though this particular teacup was furnished nicely, with a little ledge that held the soap and two small bottles of what he assumed were hair treatments. He had to search around the plainly-decorated bathroom a little to find a washcloth, but he eventually found a red one hanging neatly near the door. He had to swing for it, but after grabbing it on the second try he decided it was worth it. He picked up the rose (was everything here pink? he wondered) bar of soap, made the washcloth all nice and soapy, like he usually did, and began cleaning himself up.
Even before, in the lab, on the surgical table and the hours afterward, Kuja had never really gotten a good look at his pieced-together body. Now, however, he got a full view of it as he pulled the soapy washcloth over the inches of his stitched skin. Though his initial reaction was far away, he could not help but feel hopeless at the sight of his vile body, wrecked by the lines of sewing. It was a good stitching job, he had to admit, but when one looked rather like a rag doll, it was revolting to behold. His legs, fine and poised, were quilts; his arms were meshes, like fishnets; his chest had been turned from smooth plane to rocky terrain. Even his face, the glorious face that had summoned dragons and turned spells from thin air to tremendous explosions, had been replaced with this sewn-together monster. He did not stop to see the intact face in between the lines of needlework - all that existed now was the terrible feeling of skin... skin... bump. Skin, soft and delicate, then bump where the stitching began and ended. He could feel it all over him - he could feel the threads embedded in his skin. It was horrifying.
He did not like relying on someone's stitchery to hold him in place.
Picking up the rosy soap from the bottom of the bath, he cleaned what was left of a legend free of dirt.
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"Back," said Kuja. The main hall, which held little save for a rich carpet on the ground and plain paintings in plain frames on the walls, echoed his words back to the pair.
"Well, obviously." The moogle shook his head and smiled a little, flapping leathery green wings to lift himself off the ground and into the air before the newly clean Kuja. "You look much better now," Asper said, smiling widely, to turn his face into a near-grimace.
Asper had a talent for knowing what to say what one did not want to hear. Kuja sighed inwardly - indeed, he was very clean, his sheared hair now looking a little more as though it was supposed to be that way, with a bit of natural flip that gave its uneven layers dimension. He had slipped on loose, dark pants, a long-sleeved, open-shouldered white article of a shirt that hung almost to his knees and hid his figure and skin effectively, and a simple black vest, made of some soft sort of cloth, that draped over his shoulders to his hips. He would have gone nicely barefoot, though because he wasn't entirely sure whether the floors in this complex were all so nicely polished, he wore rope sandals. The hems of the pant legs drooped over his feet to hide them, anyway. Asper, as a moogle, went freely naked, excepting a small gold medallion which hung about his furry neck.
He had to pause and search for an answer, but could only mutter an embarassed and unconvinced "thank you" as a response to Asper's claim.
Apparently unaffected by Kuja's lack of enthusiasm, Asper began hopping in the air before the genome. "We need to discuss some terms of your staying here with us, Kuja," said Asper, his wings pulling up on his back like a cat's mouth clamped around her kitten's nape. "And I think I have a good idea."
"Uh. Okay, whatever you like," Kuja said, a little nonplussed. He hadn't been informed that there were 'terms' to staying as an intellectual equal and patient to a crazy moogle necromancer, but then again, crazy moogle necromancers tended to be somewhat changeable in mood. Feeling sarcastic, he added, "You need a poster boy for your tailoring business?"
Asper made a 'psh' noise and settled himself on Kuja's shoulder. "I figured, a stimulus of some sort, even if just a bit of work, would help your healing process quite a bit."
The genome made a face. "'Work'?" Oh, he did not want to know what kind of 'work' Asper had in mind for him. He gave the moogle a disgusted grimace.
He shrugged his shoulders a little. "What, it's not like I'm going to make you shovel poo or anything. I'm not that cruel."
Cruel enough, Kuja considered, remembering his smarting scars and staring dumbly at one of the portraits on the wall. It was of a beautiful youth, not older than twenty, but young for his adulthood. Smooth facial planes, long black hair gathered at the nape in a red ribbon, eyes too green and large. He stared smilingly at the artist who had painted him, the moment being a frozen emotion of both regality and pent-up joy. The sweet, kind face was a picture of royalty - though, the youth wore no crown, and his clothing was simple. Most noticeable of the youth was the fact that, in place of a crown, he sported a spiraling horn - mark of a summoner. The picture must have been ancient.
The moogle noted his drifting into space, captivated by the memory imprisoned in the painting, and bit Kuja's ear sharply with tiny pointed teeth. The genome had to yelp in surprise, and his shocked jump sent Asper from his shoulder and into the air next to him.
"What on Terra did you mean by that?" Kuja's irate outburst was accompanied with an expression of disgust at the moogle's chosen action. His cheeks were a shade of red unparalleled by the carpets on the floor. Asper, on the other hand, was smugly flapping in the air, little forelegs crossed across his chest. "I needed to wake you up."
Kuja's reply was to furrow his face and roll his eyes. "Is it a crime around here to admire the art?"
Asper chuckled. "No. But I am getting impatient. Need to get to work for the day," he said. Apparently, Kuja thought, Asper was not one to laze around. Kuja shrugged. "You haven't really been talking, though. Talk."
The moogle nodded. "Well, I have an experiment that needs some tending to, especially in the first three months of its post-life. You're the candidate, because you're alive and it's different than the other undead creatures here."
Kuja blinked, looking at the moogle sidelong. "Different?"
Asper seemed happy that Kuja had taken interest, and nodded, taking his seat on the man's shoulder once more. "Different," he said, holding the reason back, to keep the genome on his toes, and maybe spark his curiosity. "It needs special care and education, and you..." Asper grinned.
"So... I'm going to be nanny to one of your constructs?" Kuja's spine tingled with a shiver. If 'different' meant anything like Lanobred, the serving zombie, he would be spend his time... uncomfortably, to say the least. "That's... great," he finished, his voice empty of all excitement.
Asper was giddy once more. "Oh, come on. It'll be fun!"
The next thing Kuja knew, the flying moogle had a handful of his shirt and was moving toward the door in the end of the hall.
finit: quatrième chapitre
