Disclaimer: I no own, you no sue.
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Author's Note: Hey hey. If anyone out there wants to RP or just IM me, my screen name for AIM is BlackWaltzPinion (Not obsessed! NOT OBSESSED!!!) I really like getting random IMs, so feel free!
And with this chapter, I don't hate Amarant! Well, he is extremely annoying and an all together pointless character, but still! I'm not hatin'! You'll see!
~NeoNaoNeo
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"Yay! I got mail! I got mail, yaaaay!!!"~ Special Ed, 'Crank Yankers'
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Chapter 10: Luna
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Ipsen stretched and yawned, feeling relieved and somewhat blissful. It was still dark outside, as it always was, making it impossible to tell the time of day. The waltz didn't want to get out from under the warm covers, so he pulled them over his wings again and laid back down. Ipsen began drifting back off to sleep when the door opened and a familiar voice sounded. " I brought up some soup and a couple rolls for you." Aggy said, and walked into the cold room. "Ooh, aren't you cold up here darling?"
Ipsen shook his head and let go of the blanket. In fact, he was feeling a little hot. Ipsen unbuttoned his trench coat and removed his scarf. "Hope you like minestrone." Aggy chuckled.
"I do," he replied quietly and took his food. The servant noticed he was being awfully quiet and piped up.
"You alright? You seem off," Aggy shrugged.
"I'm fine," Ipsen replied after taking a gulp of soup.
"Alright, just remember, if there's anything you need just holler, you hear?" she coaxed and once again patted him on the back between his broad wings.
Ipsen jerked away and swung his arm, catching the woman by the wrist and sinking his fingers deep into her flesh. She cried out. The waltz narrowed his eyes. He wasn't ordered to kill her, so that urge was easily pushed away. He released her.
"Sorry, I don't like being touched there." he apologized, turning away. The woman groaned, holding her wrist. Ipsen stood up and quickly picked up his scarf to cover the wound he had given her. She gladly accepted it as Ipsen tied it tightly around her wrist. Aggy bit her lip nervously and watched Ipsen for a moment. She finally broke the silence.
"Kuja also said he had something to give you," she reported and began walking out. "I'll show you to his quarters."
Ipsen nodded and followed her out the door. The hallway was lined with lit torches, the flames burning a deep orange. "Over here," Aggy motioned nervously. Great, she's afraid of me now, Ipsen thought to himself. She held open the door for him and left as soon as Ipsen was in the room.
"Hello there," Kuja greeted nonchalantly, looking up from a book. The room was Kuja's study, telling by the hundreds upon thousands of books sitting on the wall-to-wall shelves. Kuja stared at him a few moments. "I have something I want to give you, but I need to ask you a few questions first."
"Shoot," Ipsen replied, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
"What's my name?" Kuja asked.
"It's Kuja of course," Ipsen replied, confused by this obvious question.
"And yours?"
"I---" Ipsen stopped and thought. He thought for a moment, did he even have a name? Ipsen asked himself. "I don't know."
"I see, well I guess my little formula worked then," Kuja chuckled to himself.
"Do I have a name?" Ipsen asked, now curious. Kuja didn't mind this curiosity and self-awareness. It was probably the only thing that separated the waltzes from the mage soldiers, besides their wings, although Ipsen still seemed too innocent for his liking.
"You're Black Waltz Number 4," Kuja told him. "Do you know what your purpose is?"
"My only purpose is to kill," Ipsen reported chirpily, proud of himself for knowing the answer.
"Very good," Kuja said in tone of voice one would use to congratulate a five year old. This was much easier than I thought it would be. he thought to himself. "Now, down to business." Kuja said and set his book down.
Ipsen watched as Kuja made his way across the cluttered room and came back. "I have something for you," Kuja said. He held out a handsome oak staff, topped with a gold moon. Ipsen gingerly grasped the staff and examined it as Kuja spoke, noticing the sharp tips of the moon. "It belonged to Black Waltz No. 3 and I'm hoping you'll wield it better than he did."
Ipsen ran his finger along the edge and noticed the words 'Odin, 6 weeks' were scratched near the bottom of the staff. He ignored it and continued observing the workmanship of the oak pile. Kuja cleared his throat, causing Ipsen to snap to attention. "So, are you going to try it out?" Kuja asked coolly.
"What do you mean?" Ipsen said, looking back to his new weapon.
"Well, if you want," Kuja started out. "You can go around town. There's usually something to do."
Ipsen's yellow eyes lit up into a smile. "I can go, really?"
"Yes, of course." Kuja nodded and picked up his book again. "You don't think I'd keep you cooped up in here all day?"
"No, I just..."
"Go on, have some fun," Kuja chuckled.
Ipsen complied and left.
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The twin moons illuminated the large lake with their reflections, being ever present in that town of everlasting night. Ipsen sat at the edge, watching the ripples dreamily, nearly falling asleep. He dipped a finger in the cold water and swilled it around a bit, feeling completely bored. He pricked his ears, listening to any noises possible, the crickets drowning out the confused mass of static noise the people in town made. Ipsen dipped the edge of his wing in the water playfully and allowed it to run a course on his feathers, enjoying the coolness of the water.
Ipsen snapped to attention when he heard a child's giggles nearby. His feathers rested, once again, flatly on his wings as he dismissed the noise. Ipsen turned his attention to the peaceful lake side once again when a shove upset his balance. A gruff child's voice sounded behind him. "Ha ha! I got you I got you!" A chorus of mocking laughter ensued as the children began running to the docks overlooking the lake, as to not get caught.
Ipsen pulled himself out of the freezing cold water, clothes dripping and feathers draggled with the water. He opened his wings and gave them a few sturdy, indignant flaps to dry the off. He turned his attention to the docks, where the children were hiding out, still laughing at Ipsen's expense. Ipsen took off his coat and draped it over his arm. He grinned and teleported to the place where they were hiding.
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"Oh man! That was toooo funny!" one of the children guffawed, pounding a fist on the wood.
"Yeah, you really out did yourself Bottom." a feline demi-human laughed.
"Almost better than that time you de-pantsed that noble guy!" the first kid replied.
"Yeah," the third kid said nonchalantly, leaning against a barnacle incrusted post. "But come on, that guy was just askin' for it. Not paying attention at all. Pfft, great place to day dream num nuts."
All three joined in collective laugh until Ipsen appeared behind the two children facing the lake. The one leaning on the post stopped his laughing in the waltz's menacing presence, and signaled the others to stop as well. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" the demi-human asked jokingly.
"No, I think he's just trying to save your hides." Ipsen chuckled behind them, although he wasn't as intimidating as he wanted to be, clothes and hat still wet, his throat feathers clinging pathetically to his skin.
The three joined in a collective laugh, although it was short lived. "Come on, can't you take a joke?" the third said, returning to his inclined position against the post.
"Of course," Ipsen said jokingly. "And you?"
"Sure we can," he replied and shrugged. "Why, what you got?"
Ipsen raised his staff, causing an earsplitting crack of thunder and a peel of lightning to strike the post supporting the dock. It cracked and fell in a shower of sparks and flames, taking a good portion of the dock with it, including the ground beneath the group's feet. Ipsen merely spread his wings as the wharf and three children plummeted to the icy cold water, avoiding his own trap. Their screams were stifled when they hit the water, falling from nearly twenty feet. The children along with the barnacle encrusted wood, sank beneath the shadowy surface of the water. Ipsen chuckled, still levitating in the air, and adjusted his wet hat. He shouted below.
"Pretty funny, huh?" he taunted when no more bubbles rose to the surface. He nonchalantly took a couple flaps backwards and landed easily on the wooden surface. A few items vendors were staring, but averted their gazes as Ipsen put his coat back on and looked about. He grinned to himself began heading away from the slums.
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"Finish him! Finish him!!!!" the crowd shouted at the two contestants in the ring. Amarant held a man by the collar, cat claws to his throat. Amarant dropped the man and then, with lightning quickness, punched his throat, puncturing it with the deadly cat claws. The crowd went wild with excitement as the man died slowly from blood loss.
Amarant wiped the blood off his claws with his shirt in a bored fashion. He always liked a good fight, especially one where the loser was put to death. He grinned and thought of his fight with Zidane. "He still owes me that rematch," Amarant chuckled. The crowd parted nervously as the black waltz made his way through. Amarant looked up from his weapon to Ipsen.
"I demand a fight," the waltz demanded assertively. Amarant gazed at the mage and spotted the small, distinct white patch of feathers on his under wing. He immediately recognized Ipsen by this mark, but doubted it, seeing the waltz's size and aggressiveness.
"Ipsen? What happened to you?" Amarant asked, crossing his arms.
"My name's not Ipsen," the waltz said. "It's Black Waltz 4, or just Four if you prefer." he introduced himself.
"Did you develop schizophrenia overnight or somethin'?" Amarant joked, and noticed Ipsen didn't look amused. He was serious. Amarant huffed. "Your dad's worried sick about ya."
"I know not of who you mean," Ipsen shrugged. "Now, are you going to give me a good fight or am I going to have to slaughter you without one?"
Amarant shuddered, uncharacteristically, at this remark. "Alright, I'll tell Vivi I saw you," Amarant chuckled. "And I'll be the first to tell him how you were tragically killed at my hands."
"Alright, if you really think you can beat me," Ipsen sighed, a slight tone of arrogance entering his voice. "Shall we?"
Amarant was the first to strike as he dove at Ipsen, cat claws upraised, but only slashed thin air when Ipsen vanished and reappeared behind a very confused Amarant. The man growled and turned around, catching the waltz's wing with his knuckle weapon. Ipsen flipped his wing, throwing off the scant traces of blood, and raised his staff. Amarant charged at Ipsen again, but the waltz teleported again and drove the brunt of the staff into his back.
Amarant grunted and fell to the ground. Before he could pick himself up, Ipsen swung his staff and, with the accuracy of a sickle, drove the sharp curve of the moon through Amarant's temple. Ipsen grinned at his handiwork. "'The first to tell him how I was tragically killed at your hand' hm?"
Surprised murmurs and whispers circulated throughout the crowd. Their champion, The Flaming Amarant, had just been slaughtered with no mercy from his opponent. Many of them were offended by how easily Ipsen dismissed this subject as he began walking away. Finally, after a few moments of silence, a die-hard fan of Amarant's ran from the crowd and shouted a challenging statement to the waltz. "You coward! Using magic is a wuss's way out! How could you kill him so easily and just walk away!?" he yelled, every sentence more ironic and ignorant then the last.
Ipsen turned around and walked up to him, arms behind his back. With a slightly teasing and unstable voice he chuckled, "I only exist to kill." Ipsen bent over a moment, shifting his weight from toes to his heels and back to his soles, and then straightened up. The man opened his mouth, but was interrupted by Ipsen. "He gave me a reason, not very much reason, but humility isn't much, is it? Do you want to give me a reason to have fun?"
The man looked at the waltz, his eyes were slightly crooked, part from confusion and part from fear. "You got a nut loose," he muttered to Ipsen. "You're crazy!"
"Crazy?" Ipsen repeated. "'A nut loose?'"
"You can't just go around killing people!" the man shouted.
"Why not? Are you going to stop me?" Ipsen challenged, pointing with his bloodied staff.
The man glared at him, not wanting to anger Ipsen, but at the same time, offended by Amarant's death. "I thought not." Ipsen said. "I'll be going," he grinned and put a moon tip under the man's chin. "Perhaps I can have some fun with you next time our paths cross."
Ipsen violently shoved the man back into the crowd. The people caught him and watched as Ipsen began walking westward toward the Auction House.
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Author's Note: Hey hey. If anyone out there wants to RP or just IM me, my screen name for AIM is BlackWaltzPinion (Not obsessed! NOT OBSESSED!!!) I really like getting random IMs, so feel free!
And with this chapter, I don't hate Amarant! Well, he is extremely annoying and an all together pointless character, but still! I'm not hatin'! You'll see!
~NeoNaoNeo
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"Yay! I got mail! I got mail, yaaaay!!!"~ Special Ed, 'Crank Yankers'
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Chapter 10: Luna
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Ipsen stretched and yawned, feeling relieved and somewhat blissful. It was still dark outside, as it always was, making it impossible to tell the time of day. The waltz didn't want to get out from under the warm covers, so he pulled them over his wings again and laid back down. Ipsen began drifting back off to sleep when the door opened and a familiar voice sounded. " I brought up some soup and a couple rolls for you." Aggy said, and walked into the cold room. "Ooh, aren't you cold up here darling?"
Ipsen shook his head and let go of the blanket. In fact, he was feeling a little hot. Ipsen unbuttoned his trench coat and removed his scarf. "Hope you like minestrone." Aggy chuckled.
"I do," he replied quietly and took his food. The servant noticed he was being awfully quiet and piped up.
"You alright? You seem off," Aggy shrugged.
"I'm fine," Ipsen replied after taking a gulp of soup.
"Alright, just remember, if there's anything you need just holler, you hear?" she coaxed and once again patted him on the back between his broad wings.
Ipsen jerked away and swung his arm, catching the woman by the wrist and sinking his fingers deep into her flesh. She cried out. The waltz narrowed his eyes. He wasn't ordered to kill her, so that urge was easily pushed away. He released her.
"Sorry, I don't like being touched there." he apologized, turning away. The woman groaned, holding her wrist. Ipsen stood up and quickly picked up his scarf to cover the wound he had given her. She gladly accepted it as Ipsen tied it tightly around her wrist. Aggy bit her lip nervously and watched Ipsen for a moment. She finally broke the silence.
"Kuja also said he had something to give you," she reported and began walking out. "I'll show you to his quarters."
Ipsen nodded and followed her out the door. The hallway was lined with lit torches, the flames burning a deep orange. "Over here," Aggy motioned nervously. Great, she's afraid of me now, Ipsen thought to himself. She held open the door for him and left as soon as Ipsen was in the room.
"Hello there," Kuja greeted nonchalantly, looking up from a book. The room was Kuja's study, telling by the hundreds upon thousands of books sitting on the wall-to-wall shelves. Kuja stared at him a few moments. "I have something I want to give you, but I need to ask you a few questions first."
"Shoot," Ipsen replied, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
"What's my name?" Kuja asked.
"It's Kuja of course," Ipsen replied, confused by this obvious question.
"And yours?"
"I---" Ipsen stopped and thought. He thought for a moment, did he even have a name? Ipsen asked himself. "I don't know."
"I see, well I guess my little formula worked then," Kuja chuckled to himself.
"Do I have a name?" Ipsen asked, now curious. Kuja didn't mind this curiosity and self-awareness. It was probably the only thing that separated the waltzes from the mage soldiers, besides their wings, although Ipsen still seemed too innocent for his liking.
"You're Black Waltz Number 4," Kuja told him. "Do you know what your purpose is?"
"My only purpose is to kill," Ipsen reported chirpily, proud of himself for knowing the answer.
"Very good," Kuja said in tone of voice one would use to congratulate a five year old. This was much easier than I thought it would be. he thought to himself. "Now, down to business." Kuja said and set his book down.
Ipsen watched as Kuja made his way across the cluttered room and came back. "I have something for you," Kuja said. He held out a handsome oak staff, topped with a gold moon. Ipsen gingerly grasped the staff and examined it as Kuja spoke, noticing the sharp tips of the moon. "It belonged to Black Waltz No. 3 and I'm hoping you'll wield it better than he did."
Ipsen ran his finger along the edge and noticed the words 'Odin, 6 weeks' were scratched near the bottom of the staff. He ignored it and continued observing the workmanship of the oak pile. Kuja cleared his throat, causing Ipsen to snap to attention. "So, are you going to try it out?" Kuja asked coolly.
"What do you mean?" Ipsen said, looking back to his new weapon.
"Well, if you want," Kuja started out. "You can go around town. There's usually something to do."
Ipsen's yellow eyes lit up into a smile. "I can go, really?"
"Yes, of course." Kuja nodded and picked up his book again. "You don't think I'd keep you cooped up in here all day?"
"No, I just..."
"Go on, have some fun," Kuja chuckled.
Ipsen complied and left.
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The twin moons illuminated the large lake with their reflections, being ever present in that town of everlasting night. Ipsen sat at the edge, watching the ripples dreamily, nearly falling asleep. He dipped a finger in the cold water and swilled it around a bit, feeling completely bored. He pricked his ears, listening to any noises possible, the crickets drowning out the confused mass of static noise the people in town made. Ipsen dipped the edge of his wing in the water playfully and allowed it to run a course on his feathers, enjoying the coolness of the water.
Ipsen snapped to attention when he heard a child's giggles nearby. His feathers rested, once again, flatly on his wings as he dismissed the noise. Ipsen turned his attention to the peaceful lake side once again when a shove upset his balance. A gruff child's voice sounded behind him. "Ha ha! I got you I got you!" A chorus of mocking laughter ensued as the children began running to the docks overlooking the lake, as to not get caught.
Ipsen pulled himself out of the freezing cold water, clothes dripping and feathers draggled with the water. He opened his wings and gave them a few sturdy, indignant flaps to dry the off. He turned his attention to the docks, where the children were hiding out, still laughing at Ipsen's expense. Ipsen took off his coat and draped it over his arm. He grinned and teleported to the place where they were hiding.
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"Oh man! That was toooo funny!" one of the children guffawed, pounding a fist on the wood.
"Yeah, you really out did yourself Bottom." a feline demi-human laughed.
"Almost better than that time you de-pantsed that noble guy!" the first kid replied.
"Yeah," the third kid said nonchalantly, leaning against a barnacle incrusted post. "But come on, that guy was just askin' for it. Not paying attention at all. Pfft, great place to day dream num nuts."
All three joined in collective laugh until Ipsen appeared behind the two children facing the lake. The one leaning on the post stopped his laughing in the waltz's menacing presence, and signaled the others to stop as well. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" the demi-human asked jokingly.
"No, I think he's just trying to save your hides." Ipsen chuckled behind them, although he wasn't as intimidating as he wanted to be, clothes and hat still wet, his throat feathers clinging pathetically to his skin.
The three joined in a collective laugh, although it was short lived. "Come on, can't you take a joke?" the third said, returning to his inclined position against the post.
"Of course," Ipsen said jokingly. "And you?"
"Sure we can," he replied and shrugged. "Why, what you got?"
Ipsen raised his staff, causing an earsplitting crack of thunder and a peel of lightning to strike the post supporting the dock. It cracked and fell in a shower of sparks and flames, taking a good portion of the dock with it, including the ground beneath the group's feet. Ipsen merely spread his wings as the wharf and three children plummeted to the icy cold water, avoiding his own trap. Their screams were stifled when they hit the water, falling from nearly twenty feet. The children along with the barnacle encrusted wood, sank beneath the shadowy surface of the water. Ipsen chuckled, still levitating in the air, and adjusted his wet hat. He shouted below.
"Pretty funny, huh?" he taunted when no more bubbles rose to the surface. He nonchalantly took a couple flaps backwards and landed easily on the wooden surface. A few items vendors were staring, but averted their gazes as Ipsen put his coat back on and looked about. He grinned to himself began heading away from the slums.
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"Finish him! Finish him!!!!" the crowd shouted at the two contestants in the ring. Amarant held a man by the collar, cat claws to his throat. Amarant dropped the man and then, with lightning quickness, punched his throat, puncturing it with the deadly cat claws. The crowd went wild with excitement as the man died slowly from blood loss.
Amarant wiped the blood off his claws with his shirt in a bored fashion. He always liked a good fight, especially one where the loser was put to death. He grinned and thought of his fight with Zidane. "He still owes me that rematch," Amarant chuckled. The crowd parted nervously as the black waltz made his way through. Amarant looked up from his weapon to Ipsen.
"I demand a fight," the waltz demanded assertively. Amarant gazed at the mage and spotted the small, distinct white patch of feathers on his under wing. He immediately recognized Ipsen by this mark, but doubted it, seeing the waltz's size and aggressiveness.
"Ipsen? What happened to you?" Amarant asked, crossing his arms.
"My name's not Ipsen," the waltz said. "It's Black Waltz 4, or just Four if you prefer." he introduced himself.
"Did you develop schizophrenia overnight or somethin'?" Amarant joked, and noticed Ipsen didn't look amused. He was serious. Amarant huffed. "Your dad's worried sick about ya."
"I know not of who you mean," Ipsen shrugged. "Now, are you going to give me a good fight or am I going to have to slaughter you without one?"
Amarant shuddered, uncharacteristically, at this remark. "Alright, I'll tell Vivi I saw you," Amarant chuckled. "And I'll be the first to tell him how you were tragically killed at my hands."
"Alright, if you really think you can beat me," Ipsen sighed, a slight tone of arrogance entering his voice. "Shall we?"
Amarant was the first to strike as he dove at Ipsen, cat claws upraised, but only slashed thin air when Ipsen vanished and reappeared behind a very confused Amarant. The man growled and turned around, catching the waltz's wing with his knuckle weapon. Ipsen flipped his wing, throwing off the scant traces of blood, and raised his staff. Amarant charged at Ipsen again, but the waltz teleported again and drove the brunt of the staff into his back.
Amarant grunted and fell to the ground. Before he could pick himself up, Ipsen swung his staff and, with the accuracy of a sickle, drove the sharp curve of the moon through Amarant's temple. Ipsen grinned at his handiwork. "'The first to tell him how I was tragically killed at your hand' hm?"
Surprised murmurs and whispers circulated throughout the crowd. Their champion, The Flaming Amarant, had just been slaughtered with no mercy from his opponent. Many of them were offended by how easily Ipsen dismissed this subject as he began walking away. Finally, after a few moments of silence, a die-hard fan of Amarant's ran from the crowd and shouted a challenging statement to the waltz. "You coward! Using magic is a wuss's way out! How could you kill him so easily and just walk away!?" he yelled, every sentence more ironic and ignorant then the last.
Ipsen turned around and walked up to him, arms behind his back. With a slightly teasing and unstable voice he chuckled, "I only exist to kill." Ipsen bent over a moment, shifting his weight from toes to his heels and back to his soles, and then straightened up. The man opened his mouth, but was interrupted by Ipsen. "He gave me a reason, not very much reason, but humility isn't much, is it? Do you want to give me a reason to have fun?"
The man looked at the waltz, his eyes were slightly crooked, part from confusion and part from fear. "You got a nut loose," he muttered to Ipsen. "You're crazy!"
"Crazy?" Ipsen repeated. "'A nut loose?'"
"You can't just go around killing people!" the man shouted.
"Why not? Are you going to stop me?" Ipsen challenged, pointing with his bloodied staff.
The man glared at him, not wanting to anger Ipsen, but at the same time, offended by Amarant's death. "I thought not." Ipsen said. "I'll be going," he grinned and put a moon tip under the man's chin. "Perhaps I can have some fun with you next time our paths cross."
Ipsen violently shoved the man back into the crowd. The people caught him and watched as Ipsen began walking westward toward the Auction House.
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